


requiem for a thoughtless girl

by countermelody



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Incest, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Implied/Referenced Torture, Memory Alteration, Mental Health Issues, Mental Instability, Other, Parent/Child Incest, the briarwoods are bad people and they should feel bad
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-08-13
Updated: 2019-05-19
Packaged: 2019-06-14 21:25:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 24
Words: 62,816
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15397782
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/countermelody/pseuds/countermelody
Summary: Carlotta Isabella Briarwood was eleven  years old when the white-haired man moved to Whitestone and murdered her parents.(Updates Sundays)





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> listen this is going to be a heavy fic. read the tags. this is a very heavy fit. i will put more specific warnings in on relevant chapters but for now know this is a heavy fic.

Carlotta Isabella Briarwood was eleven years old when the white-haired man moved into Whitestone.

She and Mama watched as he and his family had moved into their new home, carrying trunks and boxes out of five different carriages and into their home of the old tavern.

Mama had clicked her tongue at the redheaded woman and the young girl whose hair matched the man’s. “Women oughtn’t act that strong,” she had said, watching the white-haired girl carry a large carpetbag over her head and the redheaded woman carry a trunk. “Remember, Carlotta, women are delicate and sweet.”

Carlotta had nodded to her mother. “Yes, Mama,” she had said, because her mother hung the moon to Carlotta.

“Come, now, let us continue to Countess Ripley’s abode,” Mama had said, and she and Carlotta had continued on.

What Carlotta had noticed, which Mama had not mentioned, was that the white-haired man had stared at the two as they had watched and then walked past.

Carlotta, of course, did not meet the family until Mama and Papa invited them up to the castle for dinner.

“Now, Carlotta,” Mama said, tugging her ivory-handled brush through Carlotta’s hair, “do you remember how to behave for our guests?”

“Do not speak unless spoken to,” Carlotta said, as her mother gently sorted the snarls in her hair, “eat small portions. Sit to the left of you, Mama.”

“Good,” said Mama softly. “What else?”

“Um,” Carlotta said, and Mama tugged hard on her hair, causing Carlotta to wince. “No dreams, Mama?”

“That’s right, darling,” Mama said, returning to smoothly brushing Carlotta’s hair. “No dreams, and no funny memories.”

“Mama, why do I have weird dreams and memories when you and Papa don’t?” Carlotta asked.

“Oh, my dear sweet girl,” Mama said, “don’t you remember what Papa and I told you? When you were a little girl, you got hurt so badly when you were out playing with your friends- and all of your friends were killed in the accident, and poor sweet little you got your brain hurt.”

Carlotta hugged Johanna softly. “Mama, why can’t I remember anything right? I don’t even remember being a little girl. I only remember when I had that fever and you and Papa took care of me, and then from there on.”

Mama tugged Carlotta’s hair a bit harder. “Sweet Carlotta, it’s because of your brain injury that you can’t remember before that. The fever came as you were recovering, and Papa and I love you just the same as we would love a daughter who could remember when she was a child.”

“I love you too, Mama,” Carlotta said, as Mama finally finished tying back her hair with a yellow ribbon. Carlotta hated yellow- it gave her a queasy feeling in her stomach, and it always made her feel as though she were in danger- but Mama said that Carlotta looked just like a little doll when she wore her yellow party dresses, and so Carlotta wore yellow party dresses and put yellow ribbons in her hair.

“Let’s go show your father how pretty you are, hm?” Mama said, helping Carlotta up from the chair in front of her vanity. She guided Carlotta out of her room, where Papa was waiting.

“Well, look at my two beautiful girls,” Papa said, after he bent to kiss Carlotta on the cheek and stood to kiss Mama on the lips. “Carlotta, you look like such a little doll. Did you thank Mama for helping you with your hair?”

“Thank you, Mama,” Carlotta said to her mother. “And thank you too, Papa, for saying that I look like a little doll.”

Papa chuckled at that, and patted Carlotta on the head. “Of course, darling. What kind of Papa would I be if I didn’t compliment my beautiful daughter?”

Carlotta didn’t say anything back to Papa, but she smiled up at him and gave him a hug around his middle.

Papa gently returned Carlotta’s hug, and then pushed her away. “Shall we go and meet our guests, beloved?”

“Of course, my darling,” said Mama, taking Papa’s hand and leaving Carlotta to trail behind them.

Carlotta didn’t much care for the dinners that Mama and Papa hosted. Formal dinners made her anxious, and so Mama and Papa often let her go to bed early so as not to cause a ruckus. Sometimes, they let her keep her stuffed doll, Johanna, with her, but not this time. They said that Carlotta needed to start acting like a grown-up and stop being so childish.

Instead of going to the dining hall, Papa and Mama and Carlotta waited in the entryway for their guests to arrive.

The guests arrived at half past seven o’clock, which was a half hour after they were supposed to and about five minutes after Papa and Mama and Carlotta had started waiting.

It wasn’t the whole family that came to visit them. The white-haired man was missing, along with the white-haired daughter and the enormous man.

“Good evening,” Mama said. “Will the rest of your family be joining us?”

“Erm, unfortunately not,” said the black-haired man. “They have taken ill of late, and so only myself, my wife, our cousin, and our… son, could make it tonight.”

“‘S a pleasure to meetcha!” said the son, who sounded like he was a grown-up pretending to be a child. He was a lot shorter than Carlotta was, so she figured he was probably about three, and three-year-olds don’t really know anything.

“Well, it’s a pleasure to have everyone here who could make it,” Papa said. “Come, please follow us to the dining hall.”

Papa and Mama turned to guide everyone to the dining hall, with Carlotta following behind them and the family following behind her.

In the dining hall, Papa and Mama took their seats at the head of the table, and Carlotta took her seat next to Mama. On Carlotta’s other side, the little boy sat down. Next to Papa sat the black-haired man, and next to him sat the black-haired woman, and next to her sat the redheaded woman.

“So,” said Papa, “what brought all of you here to Whitestone? We don’t often get new faces around here.”

“Well,” said the black-haired man, “my sister and I heard that Whitestone was… a place where we could live our life without judgement, yes? And besides, one of our servants recommended it to us.” He put his hand over his sister’s.

Mama nodded appreciatively, but all Carlotta noticed was how uncomfortable the black-haired woman appeared.

“And yourselves? I’ve heard that you took power here after the previous royal family perished, is that correct?” The black-haired man asked.

“Ah, we don’t like to speak of such depressing subjects,” Mama interjected. “It frightens the little ones, you understand.” She reached out and placed her hand on Carlotta’s shoulder.

“Of course, of course,” the black-haired man said. “I’m sorry, I didn’t think. How old is your daughter, speaking of her?”

Carlotta looked up at Mama, and Mama looked down to her and nodded, smiling. “I’m eleven,” Carlotta said softly.

“That’s a fun age to be, isn’t it?” said the redheaded woman. “I remember when I was eleven. I was running all over the place, playing tag and climbing trees.”

“I’m not allowed to climb trees,” Carlotta said. “It’s too dangerous, I might get injured.”

“... Oh,” said the redheaded woman. “Well, what do you do for fun?”

“I read,” said Carlotta. “Or I play with my dolls. Sometimes, I go and visit Miss Ripley or Baroness Grebbin with Mama.”

“Carlotta, dear, don’t bore our guests,” Mama chastised gently. “What about your son? How old is he, five? Six?”

“He’s nine,” said the black-haired woman. “Late bloomer, though, like his father.” She smiled over at the black-haired man, although she still looked ill.

“Don’t embarrass me in front of our gracious hosts, darling,” murmured the black-haired man as he gently stroked the woman’s thumb.

“Seeing young couples is so _sweet_ ,” Mama enthused. “Don’t they remind you of us when we were their age, darling?”

Papa smiled widely at Mama. “They certainly do, don’t they? Why, I remember when little Carlotta was their son’s age! What a troublemaker she used to be. Always sneaking around and getting herself lost.”

“I don’t remember that,” Carlotta said absentmindedly as she began to eat her soup. Mama’s grip on her shoulder tightened.

“No, of course you don’t, dear. You were so young,” Mama said, smiling. “Most people don’t remember when they’re children.”

“I remember,” the little boy bragged. “I remember back when I was three.”

“Well, isn’t that impressive!” Mama cooed, taking her hand away from Carlotta’s shoulder.

“What an intelligent young man your son is,” Papa said, but he was doing the thing he did with his eyebrows which meant that he wasn’t taking the young man seriously.

“Yes, we’re very proud of him,” said the black-haired woman absentmindedly. “Tell me, Lady Briarwood, how _do_ you get such obedient servants? I’ve always had such a terrible problem with servants with attitude.”

“You’ve got to show them a firm hand, darling,” Mama said, as one of the servants replaced Carlotta’s bowl of soup with a small plate of salad. “And, if you’ve got certain talents- well, it makes it all the more easier.”

Carlotta quietly continued eating her dinner- always leaving at least a quarter, but sometimes a half of her portions, so she would stay a sweet and delicate girl.

Sometime between the main dish and the post-appetizer, the young boy began to get annoying.

“Hey,” he whispered, right in Carlotta’s ear. “Hey. Psst.”

“Hush,” Carlotta whispered back, after she realized he was speaking to her. “We’re not allowed to speak at dinner.”

“No, _listen_ ,” the little boy insisted, and he started patting her arm insistently.

“Stop it!” Carlotta finally said- louder than she had intended, apparently, because now everyone at the table was looking at her, not just the little boy.

“Carlotta,” Papa said softly, “do you need to go to bed?”

Carlotta’s cheeks burned red with shame. “No, Papa,” she said quietly. “It’s just that he keeps-”

“Now, Carlotta,” Mama said, putting her hand back on Carlotta’s shoulder, “we needn’t interrupt the entire dinner just because this young man wants you to pay attention to you, do we?”

“No, Mama,” Carlotta said, even more quietly.

“Oh, don’t put all the blame on little Carlotta,” the black-haired man said. “We know how much trouble our little Robbie can be. It’s far past his bedtime, anyway. We should probably retire.”

“Oh, please, why don’t you all spend the night here?” Papa asked, but he didn’t seem to be looking at the black-haired man or the black-haired woman or the redheaded woman. He seemed to be looking in between them.

“Oh, no, we couldn’t bear to be a bother,” the black-haired woman said. “And, really, we ought to get back home to our niece and our cousin, take care of them. Our manservant simply isn’t up to it, really.”

“Oh, no?” Mama asked. “Not even for one night? Surely your… manservant, can manage for one night! And, besides, wouldn’t your little Robbie like to get to know Carlotta a little better?”

The black-haired brother and sister shared a look, and then the brother smiled. “Well, perhaps for only one night,” he said, smiling at his sister. Then, he turned to look at Papa. “It is so generous of you and your wife to offer to let us stay tonight. Really, you’re both too kind.”

“Really, it’s nothing,” Papa said. “What more could we do, but offer our hospitality to the new family in town?”

“Well, all right then!” The black-haired man said, sounding terribly excited.

The rest of the dinner was quiet- Carlotta stayed out of the adults’ conversations, and whenever the little boy tried to get her attention, she just slapped him away.

Finally, it was time for dessert- today was special, vanilla cookies with strawberry filling. Carlotta had a half, because she and Mama split one, and she tried not to feel very jealous when the little boy got to take five.

After dinner, Papa took Carlotta up to her bedroom while Mama guided the guests back to their rooms.

“You know, Carlotta,” he said, as he smoothed the blanket over her, “I am proud of how you behaved at dinner. Certainly, you had a hiccup, but I am extremely proud of you, nonetheless. You did quite well.”

“Thank you, Papa,” Carlotta said. “But it really _wasn’t_ my fault, I promise. Robbie kept hitting me.”

“Oh, he just likes you,” Papa said, eyes crinkling. But Carlotta was under the impression that when people liked her, they were especially nice to her, like Mama and Papa were. “Don’t you let that little boy upset you, Carlotta. It’s important for little girls to get lots of sleep, especially little girls like you.”

“Little girls who can’t remember?” Carlotta asked, although she was already sleepy. She always got sleepier when Papa tucked her in than when Mama tucked her in.

“Exactly, Carlotta. You need to get lots of sleep, so that you can maybe start remembering me and Mama before you had the fever.” Papa leaned over and kissed her on the forehead. “Now, get lots of sleep, my sweet.”

“Yes, Papa,” Carlotta said through a yawn. Before Papa had even blew out the candle in Carlotta’s room, she was falling asleep.

Carlotta always had the most terrifying dreams, whenever she fell asleep. Her dreams were always frightening- of the accident that Mama always talked about, Carlotta assumed- but in the dreams, Mama and Papa and Countess Ripley and Lord Tylieri and even Professor Anders were monsters, horrible terrible terrifying monsters. But that wasn’t ever true at all.

But Carlotta woke in the middle of the night like she always did, because of the dreams.

Except for on that middle of the night, Carlotta wasn’t alone in her room- it wasn’t Papa or Mama stepping in to check on her, or one of the servants summoning her to Papa’s and Mama’s room, either. It was the white-haired man, with the strangely blurred face who had moved into Whitestone and hadn’t been able to make it to the meeting.

“Cassandra,” the white-haired man whispered, almost reverently. “Oh, thank heavens you’re safe.”

“Who are you?” Carlotta demanded. “Who’s Cassandra? Why are you in my room?”

“Shh,” the white-haired man said urgently, holding one finger to his lips as his other hand placed the candle he held on Carlotta’s vanity. “Cassandra, hush. They might hear us.”

“ _Who_ might hear us?” Carlotta asked. “Who’s Cassandra and who are you and why are you in my _room_!”

“Hush!” The white-haired man said. “You needn’t pretend anymore, Cassandra. They can’t hear us. Don’t worry about them, we’ll get rid of them and everything can go back to normal.”

“Who _are_ you!” Carlotta asked again, almost shouting. “I don’t know who you are and I don’t know who Cassandra is and I don’t know why you’re in my room or how you got here!”

The white-haired man gave her a queer look. He picked up his candle and approached Carlotta. “Cassandra,” he said, almost sounding to be pleading, “it’s me, it’s your brother.”

“I don’t _have_ any brothers,” Carlotta insisted, but she was beginning to feel dizzy and feverish- she’d never had any brothers, right? It was only ever Carlotta and Mama and Papa, and it didn’t matter that Carlotta couldn’t remember, Mama and Papa could remember for her.”

“Cassandra-” the white-haired man said again, and he placed his candle atop Carlotta’s dresser and sat down on the edge of her bed. “Cassandra, it’s _me_.”

“Who’s _me_!” Carlotta nearly wailed. “Who _are_ you!”

“Oh, Cassandra,” said the white-haired man sadly. He leaned in, and gave Carlotta a deep hug, and rested his head on her shoulder. “Oh, C-”

But he couldn’t finish his sentence, because Carlotta began screaming. Something about her neck, his face on her _neck_ , him clutching her to him and his face in her _neck_ , it set her teeth on edge, and she screamed bloody murder.

The white-haired man backed away from her, looking appalled. He turned towards the door- Carlotta could hear Papa’s feet pounding down the hall, Mama following close behind, and they would fix everything. Instead, though, the white-haired man put a hat on and vanished as Mama and Papa came through the door.

“Carlotta-” Papa said, looking anxious. “-my sweet, beloved, what’s wrong? Did you have a nightmare?”

Carlotta shook her head heavily. “There was a- there was- Papa, there was a _man_ in my room and he- he called me _Cassandra_ , and he said- he said he was my, my _brother_ and he put his face in my _ne-he-he-heeeck_ ,” Carlotta explained quickly, sobbing all the way through.

Papa’s face turned stormy at that, and he scanned the room as though he would be able to find the man like that. “Stay with Mama,” he told Carlotta, after he finished his search. “I’m going to make sure he doesn’t get away.”

Mama sat down on the bed next to Carlotta and began stroking her hair. “Oh, sweet Carlotta, don’t you worry. Nothing bad will ever happen to you as long as you stay with your father and I. I promise you, nothing bad will ever, ever, ever happen to you.”

As Mama kept stroking her hair, Carlotta began to drift.

Drifting wasn’t quite falling asleep, not really, not the way it happened with Papa and sometimes Mama. Drifting was falling asleep, but being awake, and forgetting everything, and then Carlotta woke up a few weeks later after she’d been sick.

Carlotta hated drifting. She hated the way she felt lost and the way that she couldn’t remember who anyone was and the way that she couldn’t know what she was doing.

But Carlotta drifted, and she figured she fell asleep.


	2. Chapter 2

Carlotta woke up in the garden. She was sitting on a bench next to Mama, wearing a teatime dress with a sunhat and holding Johanna in her lap.

“Now, Carlotta,” Mama was saying, “do you remember how to act with our guests?”

Carlotta struggled for a moment. She hadn’t remembered there would be guests- she didn’t know, she didn’t know what kind of guests there would be, she didn’t know if it was formal or informal.

“No dreams,” Carlotta said weakly. “No funny memories. Um. Do not speak unless spoken to?”

Mama pinched the back of Carlotta’s arm, so Carlotta would know she had answered wrong. “No, darling, this is just a playdate. So you may speak as much as you wish with your playmate, but don’t bother the adults until we call for you. Alright?”

Carlotta nodded. “Yes, Mama.”

Carlotta couldn’t remember the last time she had had a playdate. “Mama, who is my playdate with?”

Mama smiled at Carlotta. “Don’t you remember, darling? I must have told you a thousand times, that little Robbie who you were so enchanted with at the dinner is going to come play with you, whilst his mother and I have a chat.”

“What dinner?” Carlotta asked. She couldn’t quite remember the last time there had been a dinner that she had been invited to.

“Oh, it was almost three months ago, now, I suppose. You probably can’t remember, by now, you caught a terrible flu from Robbie last time he was here.”

“He’s been here before?” Carlotta asked, somewhat dazed. She didn’t think that that was quite right- she didn’t _think_ that she had had playdates before..

“Of course, darling! He came by a week after the dinner, then two weeks after that, and then a week after that, and then two weeks after that, and then a week after that, when you caught the flu. You two get on like flies on honey!”

“Oh,” Carlotta said. “When are they meant to arrive today?”

“Oh, in ten or so minutes, I suppose,” Mama said idly. “Such a shame that Papa can’t join us.”

Mama and Carlotta sat together on the bench for a few minutes longer, waiting for Robbie and his mother to arrive. And then, after the set time, another few minutes after that.

“Oh, hello there,” said Robbie’s mother, as a servant guided them towards Carlotta and Mama. “It’s so great to see you two, it’s been such a long time.”

“Yes, yes, Carlotta’s been so excited to see little Robbie,” Mama said, smiling. She gently pushed Carlotta’s back so that she would stand up. “Beatrice, could you please take the little ones off to play so that Lady Vex’ahlia and I can speak?”

Beatrice nodded, and guided Robbie and Carlotta away- except for Robbie didn’t seem to like following her, so Beatrice had to go back and pull him several times.

Beatrice took them not so far away that Carlotta couldn’t hear Mama and Lady Vex’ahlia talking, but far enough away that she couldn’t make out any of the words being said. Carlotta knelt down in the grassy patch, and Robbie, after a moment, sat down across from her.

“How have you been?” Carlotta asked, as she carefully arranged Johanna next to her.

“I’ve been okay,” Robbie said. “It’s been a while since I saw you. What about you?”

“I’ve had the flu,” Carlotta said. “I get ill quite often.”

“Really?” Robbie asked. “That sucks.”

“You shouldn’t use uncouth language,” Carlotta said, sitting Johanna down next to her. “Mama says it’s impolite.”

“Yeah, I’m real bad at that,” Robbie said. “What’s your doll’s name?”

“This is Johanna,” Carlotta said, pulling the doll into her lap. “She’s been with me forever. As long as I can remember.”

“How long can you remember?” Robbie asked.

Carlotta shrugged. “As long as I’ve been alive, I suppose. How far am I supposed to remember?”

Robbie shrugged. “I dunno. Usually you can remember people, though.”

“I can remember people!” Carlotta said, somewhat defensively. “I’m not _stupid_!”

“I didn’t say you were,” Robbie said. “Hey, how old are you?”

“I’m eleven,” Carlotta said. “I thought I said that at the dinner.”

Robbie shrugged. “Maybe. I wasn’t really paying attention.”

“You were so. You kept poking me and trying to talk to me when you weren’t supposed to,” Carlotta accused. “You were definitely paying attention to me and you better stop lying.”

“I was trying to give you a note, and then you threw a fit,” Robbie pointed out.

“I did not! You kept poking me and talking to me, even though we aren’t supposed to talk at dinner unless grown-ups talk first,” Carlotta said primly.

“When my family eats dinner, we can talk whenever we want,” Robbie said. He started rifling through his pockets.

“Yea- Maybe so, but your family isn’t the noble family of Whitestone. Mine is.”

Robbie pulled out a scrap of paper from his pocket and handed it over to Carlotta. “Here. This is what I was trying to give to you earlier.”

Carlotta started to unfold it, but Robbie stopped her. “Wait ‘til you’re going to sleep. Don’t let your mom take it.”

“Mama wouldn’t take it from me,” Carlotta said absentmindedly, but she put the note away into Johanna’s purse.

“Okay. Anyways, we’re leaving now, so I guess I’ll see ya later,” Robbie said as he stood up and brushed the dirt off of his shorts.

Carlotta stood up after him, taking up Johanna and dusting off her skirt delicately. “Alright.”

They and Beatrice walked back to Mama and Robbie’s mother. Mama pulled Carlotta down to the bench next to her as Robbie’s mother stood up.

“Well, it was so nice to see you,” Mama said politely. “Please come again. Carlotta just _loves_ spending time with Robbie.”

She really didn’t, but she wasn’t supposed to say anything, so she didn’t.

“Oh, of course,” said Robbie’s mother. “Robbie loves visiting too, don’t you, Robbie?”

“Yeah,” Robbie said, but he was looking around the garden and not paying attention to his mother. “‘S great.”

“Robbie,” his mother admonished, “be polite! Lady Delilah and Miss Carlotta didn’t _have_ to let us visit today.”

“Oh, the little tyke is probably just tired,” Mama said, smiling. “You had better get him home.”

Robbie’s mother smiled back at Mama and nodded. “Yes, quite right, Lady Delilah. I suppose we’ll see you next time!”

“Yes, good-bye,” Mama said, waving as Beatrice guided the guests away.

“Did you have a good time, darling?” Mama asked Carlotta.

“I suppose,” Carlotta said. “Robbie’s weird.”

“Carlotta,” Mama said calmly, pinching the underside of Carlotta’s arm, “that’s not a very nice thing to say about guests.”

Carlotta flinched minutely. “I’m sorry, Mama. I didn’t mean it.”

Mama smiled. “It’s just because he’s a boy, isn’t it? When I was your age, I thought boys were very yucky.”

It wasn’t that at all, but it was a very convenient exit for Carlotta. “Yes, Mama,” she said. “Boys are icky.”

“Good girl,” Mama said, and began petting the back of Carlotta’s hair. “Shall we go in and visit Papa? He’s missed you ever so much, since he couldn’t see you while you were ill.”

“Yes, Mama,” Carlotta said politely.

“Good girl,” Mama said, standing up from the bench. “Come, now.”

Carlotta followed a half step behind Mama as they entered the castle and climbed up to the library, where Papa did most of his work.

At the door of the library, Mama turned to Carlotta and raised a single finger to her lips. She slowly opened the door, peeked in, and turned back to Carlotta, holding up one hand. Then, she ran into the library.

As Carlotta waited at the door, she heard Mama collide with someone and giggle. “Hello, my sweet.”

Next, Carlotta heard Papa’s deep, throaty laughter. “Hello, my love. Is our darling daughter along with you?”

“Hm? Oh, yes, of course. Carlotta!” Mama called. Carlotta stepped through the door of the library to see Papa holding Mama in his arms up off the floor. “Come say hello to your father, darling.”

Carlotta stepped into the library carefully, her shoes click-click-clicking on the wooden floors. Carlotta always hated coming into the library. Her brightest memories of the library are bloody and terrible, a horror- it makes her feel sick, like her yellow party dresses. Papa and Mama always told her that it wasn’t for real, that it must be a nightmare, actually.

“Hello, sweetheart,” Papa said, allowing Mama to stand back down on the floor. He knelt down in front of Carlotta, pushed her hair back from her forehead, and gave her a gentle kiss. “Are we feeling better, hm?”

“Yes, Papa,” Carlotta said. “I just finished playing with Robbie in the gardens.”

“Good girl,” Papa said, standing back up. “Do you like having a playmate?”

Carlotta nodded, even though she really didn’t like Robbie at all.

“It’s almost time for dinner, isn’t it, darling,” Mama said to Papa. “Would you like to go out tonight?”

Papa glanced down to Carlotta for a moment, and then back to Mama. “Do you think Carlotta is ready, dear sweet?”

Mama glanced down at Carlotta and giggled. “Oh, no, my darling. Just the two of us.”

Papa chuckled as he looked down at Carlotta again. “Well, I suppose, if you insist.” He took Mama’s hand in his own and pressed a gentle kiss to it. “Do you have any ideas?”

Mama looked into Papa’s eyes and giggled. “Of course I do, beloved. I always do.” She looked down at Carlotta, and she smiled gently. “Carlotta, sweet thing, go to your room, won’t you? Wait for your nursemaid to get you for dinner.”

Carlotta nodded. “Yes, Mama,” she said. She turned on her heel, exited the library, and walked to her room.

Inside her room, Carlotta took off of her shoes and sat on the edge of her bed.

After several minutes, Carlotta’s mind cleared of some strange fog, and she remembered her doll.

She raised Johanna to her lap from where she had been dangling absentmindedly in Carlotta’s hand. She took Johanna’s purse and opened it, where the note from Robbie still stayed.

She took out the note and unfolded it.

“Your name is Cassandra de Rolo. Your brother is Percival de Rolo. Your parents are not your parents.”

The names were blurred and slipping on the page, and Carlotta had to focus to read them, focusing to the point that her brain began to hurt. Though she tried to focus through the pain, her intent to read the note only caused a bright, blinding pain between her eyes, as though she was being warned. The pain then sharpened, abruptly, causing Carlotta to drop Johanna to the floor, along with the note.

“Cassandra?”

Carlotta looked up from the pain in her head, the horrible stinging burning white pain, up from the floor where Johanna had fallen.

Standing to the side of her dresser was the young man- he had been there the night of the dinner, he was the reason that Mama had made her drift- and he was the man on the slab, with Countess Ripley standing behind him and looking terrible horrible cruel. His hair was white, like the night of the dinner, but not like the time when he was on the slab or the times before that that Carlotta was half-remembering.

“My name is Carlotta,” Carlotta said, but she felt distant, like she was behind a piece of glass. “My name is Carlotta and I don’t know who you are.”

“Cassandra, we don’t have long. Listen to me. My friends and I will be coming here soon. Don’t be afraid when we come. You will be safe.”

“I don’t understand,” Carlotta said. “I don’t understand. I don’t know who you are and I don’t know how you got in-SIDE!”

“Cassandra-”

“MY NAME IS CARLOTTA ISABELLA BRIARWOOD! I DON’T KNOW WHO YOU ARE! I DON’T UNDERSTAND!” Carlotta shrieked.

The man was stunned silent for a moment. Carlotta clutched her head in her hands once more, and she waited for the man to either to vanish or to keep talking.

“You really don’t remember?” He finally asked. “You really think your name is Carlotta Isabella Briarwood, and you really think that you’ve only ever had your Mama and your Papa in your life?”

“What else would I have?” Carlotta asked. She didn’t look up from where she was staring at the floor.

Carlotta felt the man hover for a moment. “... I’ll, I’ll tell my friends. Don’t worry, Cassandra. I’ll explain everything to you.”

Carlotta squeezed her eyes shut tight as tears began to leak out.

“Good-bye, I suppose,” the man finally said. “Be seeing you.”

Carlotta listened closely as she heard the man walk out of her room. Once she was certain that he was gone, she sat up and flopped backwards onto her pillows. After a moment, she sat up and fished Johanna off the floor and clutched her to her chest.

She took the note that had settled on Johanna’s chest and held it up straight above her eyes. The words were blurred, now, and impossible to read- she couldn’t remember what it said her name was, or what it said her brother used to be, or what was wrong with her parents. All that was left was the terrible, terrible pain.

Carlotta let Johanna fall on her chest and began tearing the note up above her head, allowing for the confetti to fall on her face and chest and Johanna.

Carlotta allowed for her eyes to fall shut and allowed herself to cry.

Finally, after fifteen minutes of silent tears, Carlotta sat up straight and looked straight at the bureau where the man had been standing.

The man was gone, and there was no trace of him ever having been there.

But on the top of the dresser, there were three vanilla cookies with strawberry filling.


	3. Chapter 3

Carlotta continued staring at the cookies for several minutes, every few seconds reaching out to test if the cookies were real, and each and every time taking her hand back.

Finally, after nearly ten minutes staring at the cookies, willing herself to reach towards them and touch them, Carlotta finally, finally touched the cookies.

They were real, and they were soft, and they felt fresh.

Carlotta jerked her hand back. Then, she dashed her hand out and grabbed a cookie off the top of the stack and ate it.

It tasted just like the cookies had at the dinner, soft and fluffy and strawberry filling and vanilla creamy.

Real and just what Carlotta had wanted.

After she had licked every crumb from her fingers, Carlotta kicked off her shoes and fell back onto her bed, hugging Johanna tight to her chest.

“Johanna, I don’t get it,” she whispered. “I don’t get it, I don’t understand who he is and I don’t get what happened.” She squeezed Johanna tightly. “What do I do, Johanna? Who was he? Who are my parents? Who are they? What happened?” She stood up from her bed and paced back and forth, still clutching Johanna to her chest. “What did I see? What happened? Why was everyone covered in blood? What did Miss Ripley do? Why can’t I remember!”

At the last word, Carlotta threw Johanna across the room- before Johanna had flown even five feet, Carlotta was overcome with regret. She dashed after her and scooped her up, cradling her in her arms. “I’m sorry, Johanna, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it.”

Behind her, Carlotta heard the door creak open. She whirled around, halfway hoping that it was the strange man again.

Instead, it was just Miss Bridget at the door, holding it open and gesturing to the hallway.

“Is dinner ready, Miss Bridget?” Carlotta asked. She knew she wouldn’t get an answer. Mama always said that the servants knew better than to speak to the nobility.

Miss Bridget nodded slowly, though, and continued pointing towards the hallway.

“Can I bring Johanna with, tonight?” Carlotta asked. She clutched Johanna a little closer.

Miss Bridget paused, and then nodded slowly.

“Very well,” Carlotta said. She slipped her shoes back on and walked out of the room ahead of Miss Bridget.

Whenever Mama and Papa went out for date night, Carlotta ate her dinner in the sunroom, just her and her dinner and sometimes Johanna, if she was allowed.

Carlotta didn’t like the sunroom, though. It scared her, with how gray and green and foggy it was outside, and being surrounded by glass. It always made Carlotta feel like she was trapped in a filthy aquarium. It wasn’t even so bad walking through the fog- Mama or Papa was always with her, for one, but there was also the fact that there wasn’t any glass around her that made her feel trapped when she was walking.

Carlotta sat down in her seat in the sunroom, and placed Johanna down on her lap. In front of her, Miss Bridget set down her plate. On the plate was a small serving of vegetables, next to a larger serving of red, rare meat.

Carlotta hated eating the meat. It was always so bloody, so red, so hot, and it always made her feel a little sick. The vegetables were little better, always limp and steamed and oily. Carlotta only really liked desserts and breads and fruits, not vegetables or red meat.

But Carlotta was a good girl, so she ate most of her dinner (not all, though, because she was a sweet little girl). She was very careful to make sure Johanna didn’t get dirty, but she ate as much dinner as she could.

Once she was done with her dinner, Miss Bridget set down a small plate with a very small vanilla cookie, and a single strawberry on top in the center. Beneath the cookie was a small scrap of paper, in Mama’s handwriting, which read “Happy birthday, my love.”

Carlotta didn’t think it was her birthday yet, though. She was still eleven, wasn’t she? But, when Carlotta flipped over the paper, it said “Happy Thirteenth” in Papa’s handwriting. But Carlotta wasn’t thirteen yet, was she? She should be twelve, if she wasn't still eleven. Carlotta knew she sometimes missed time when Mama made her drift, but never that long.

Carlotta took the paper, folded it, and placed it inside of Johanna’s purse. Then, she ate her cookie and her strawberry, and she walked back to her room.

In her room, the two cookies were still there- the special cookies, with the strawberry filling instead of just a strawberry on top. Carlotta reached out and touched them, and there they were, real as real could be.

“What’s happening, Johanna,” Carlotta whispered. She placed Johanna on top of the bureau and next to the cookies. Then, she carefully removed her shoes and placed them in her closet, shucked her tights and placed those within her hamper, and carefully removed her teatime dress and hung it in her closet, then took her bonnet and hung it on a hook on her wall. Finally, she took a periwinkle blue nightgown from her closet and put it on.

She knew that the periwinkle nightgown went down to her ankles. But when Carlotta looked down at herself in front of the mirror, the nightgown only went down to her shins.

“Oh, Johanna,” Carlotta said, as she stood on tiptoes to take Johanna back down from the bureau, “what happened to me?”

Carlotta carefully followed the same ritual that she had followed for Johanna- placed her purse on top of the bureau, placed her shoes next to it, and changed Johanna’s tea dress for a pale white nightgown.

Carlotta had just climbed into bed when she remembered the cookies. She didn’t think that Mama or Papa would take the cookies, but she knew that she wanted to make sure that the cookies were still there and still fresh in the next days. So, she took the cookies from the dresser and placed them in the bottommost drawer of her vanity, on the right-hand side when looking at it.

Then, Carlotta climbed into her bed, with Johanna next to her, and pulled the covers over the two of them, and extinguished her bedside lamp, leaving only the lamp that Papa and Mama liked to use when they came to check on her at night.

Carlotta woke the next morning to Mama stroking her back.

“G’morning, Mama,” Carlotta said sleepily.

Mama pinched the base of Carlotta’s neck, waking Carlotta up sharply. “What do we say, darling?”

“Good morning, Mama,” Carlotta said sweetly, enunciating her words. “How was your date night with Papa?”

“Very good, darling,” Mama said. “Did you enjoy your birthday dinner?”

“Yes, Mama,” Carlotta said. “Thank you very much for the cookie. Am I really thirteen?”

“Yes, darling, of course,” Mama said. “And since you’re thirteen, you’re much too old for dolls, right?”

Carlotta sat up, Mama keeping her hands in her hair and on her back. In her room, lit only with her bedside lamp and Mama’s and Papa’s special lamp- (no windows for soft, sweet, Carlotta, we can’t let her skin pucker or burn or freckle)- she saw Mama holding Johanna by one hand, dangling her above the oil lamp flame.

“You don’t need this silly little toy anymore, do you, Carlotta? This is a toy for children, and now you’re growing up, aren’t you, sweet daughter?”

“Oh, Mama, please, no,” Carlotta begged- too loud, too loud, be quiet and soft and sweet. “Not Johanna, Mama, please, she’s my best friend-”

Mama pinched the back of Carlotta’s neck, much harder than she had ever been pinched. “Don’t _whine_ , Carlotta. You’re a big girl, now, aren’t you? So you don’t need toys for little girls.”

“Mama, _please_ ,” Carlotta begged. “Anything but Johanna, Mama. Take some of my little girl dresses, or even take some of Johanna’s clothes, but please don’t take Johanna from me.”

“What in the _world_ is going on in here?” Papa asked, as he creaked open the door to Carlotta’s room. “I was just finishing my breakfast when I heard a terrible racket.”

“Oh, it’s nothing, I suppose,” Mama said, tossing Johanna in a high arc so that she landed and bounced on Carlotta’s bed. Carlotta scrambled to catch her and hold her close. “I just thought that maybe Carlotta was ready to be a big girl, now that she’s thirteen, but I suppose she isn’t at all.”

“Papa, I said I would give up my little girl things, just not Johanna, because she’s-” Carlotta was cut off both by Mama pinching her shoulder blade and by Papa’s imperiously raised single eyebrow and his finger held up to his lips.

“We don’t interrupt, do we, Carlotta?” He asked, returning his finger and his eyebrow. “Especially not Mama and Papa.”

“No, Papa,” Carlotta said miserably. “Especially not Mama and Papa.”

“And do we remember what happens to naughty girls who interrupt Mama and Papa?”

Carlotta looked up at her Papa, eyes wide in panic. “No, Papa, please, not the chest.”

“Yes, I’m afraid so,” Papa said, looking terribly, terribly sad. “I’m sorry, Carlotta, but you know the rules.”

Carlotta hesitated, for a moment, before she rose from her bed and stood next to where Mama was sitting. “Can I bring Johanna with me?”

“Oh, no,” Mama said, petting Carlotta’s hair. “I think this is good practice, since we aren’t quite ready to let go of Johanna yet. We can be separated from her for a few moments, can’t we, Carlotta?”

Carlotta sent Papa a pleading look, but he ignored it, focused on finding the correct key on his ring. “Only twenty minutes, right, Mama?” She asked softly. It wouldn’t be so bad if it was just twenty minutes.

“Well, that was a little girl punishment,” Papa said, apparently finding the key to the chest. “Now that you’re a big girl, I think you need a big girl punishment.”

“Please, Papa, no-”

Mama reached through Carlotta’s hair and pinched her neck. “I think that two hours will do,” she said. “That’s a good big girl punishment for interrupting, isn’t it?”

“Right you are, my darling,” Papa said, unlocking the chest at the foot of Carlotta’s bed. “Here we are, princess,” he said, holding the chest open. “Climb inside and you’ll be ready to go.”

Carlotta climbed inside the chest and curled up. When she was younger, she used to be able to fit in the chest much better, but now that she was thirteen, apparently, she had to scrunch her knees and elbows up to fit.

“Alright. Two hours, darling, and then we can all come out and have fun, right?” Mama asked.

“Yes, Mama,” Carlotta said into the corner of the trunk.

“Good girl,” Papa said. “Two hours, count them careful, and then we’ll come back.”

“Okay, Papa,” Carlotta said.

Finally, Papa closed the lid of the steamer trunk above her, and _click-click_ ed the lock closed. Then, she heard Mama and Papa step out of the room, both talking quietly to each other.

When Carlotta was younger, she used to count the seconds until Mama and Papa would come and let her out. Twenty minutes times sixty seconds every minute equals counting to twelve hundred. That wasn’t ever so bad. Sometimes it was good, even, and she would calm down when she was counting to twelve hundred, and then Mama and Papa would come back and Carlotta would be sweet and calm.

But two hours was much longer than twenty minutes. Two hours equaled sixty minutes equaled twenty minutes three times equaled thirty-six hundred equaled half of two hours times two equaled seventy-two hundred.

Carlotta hated the idea of counting to seventy-two hundred, but she could do it.

She started counting.

She counted until seventy-two hundred, but Mama and Papa weren’t there yet, so she must have counted wrong. She started over from the beginning.

At four hundred, Carlotta heard the door to her room creak open, and she thought that it was Mama and Papa coming back.

Instead, she heard the white-haired man say, “Cassandra?”

Carlotta stayed quiet, for a moment. She heard the man walking around her room. She heard him walk past the trunk, and heard him opening the doors to her wardrobe. “Cassandra, are you in here?”

After a moment of silence, when she thought that the man was leaving, she gently knocked on the lid of the trunk.

“Cassandra?” She heard him ask. “Can you knock again?”

Carlotta gently knocked the lid twice more.

“You’re in the chest?” He asked. Apparently, he hurried over to the trunk, and then she heard keys jangling and the _click-click_ ing of the lid of the trunk unlocking. The lid swung open, and Carlotta blinked up at the face of the man. “How long have you been in here?”

“I thought it was two hours, but I must have been wrong,” she said. “Have Mama and Papa said that I can come out of the trunk?”

“What?” The man asked, blinking. “What do you mean, two hours? Of course they haven’t said you can come out, they don’t know that I visit you.”

“I have to stay inside here for two hours,” Carlotta said. “I’m being punished.”

“Why?” The man asked. “What did you do that needs- that needs being locked in a steamer trunk?”

“I fought with Mama,” Carlotta said, “over Johanna.”

The man startled. “Johanna?”

Carlotta snaked an arm out of the chest and pointed to Johanna, who was lying on her bed. “Mama said that I’m too old for dolls, and I requested that she not burn Johanna. So now I’m in the trunk.”

The man blinked, again, and sat down heavily on Carlotta’s bed. “They shouldn’t do that,” he said, sounding hollow. “That’s not a good way to treat people.”

“It’s a punishment,” Carlotta said simply. “But I’m alright.”

“You’re a _child_.”

“I’m thirteen,” Carotta said. “My birthday was last night.”

The man looked at her oddly. “No, you’re not. You’re fourteen.”

“No, I’m thirteen,” Carlotta said. “Yesterday was my birthday, that’s why Mama said I was too old for dolls.”

“No, Cassandra, you’re fourteen. You were twelve when- when everything happened, and it’s not quite been two years. You’ve been thirteen, and now you’re fourteen.”

Carlotta paused and processed that information. “I didn’t know.”

“Of course you didn’t,” the young man said.

There was a brief silence.

“May I ask you a question?” Carlotta finally asked.

“Of course,” the young man said. “Anything you like.”

Carlotta began carefully tracing the patterns inside the chest. “What is your name?”

“Percival,” said the young man, after a pause. “Percival de Rolo.”

“Oh,” said Carlotta. “Like the note.”

“Yes,” said Percival, as though he were speaking through an enormous lump in his throat. “Yes. And your name is Cassandra de Rolo.”

“Carlotta Isabella Briarwood,” Carlotta corrected.

“Cassandra,” Percival said. “Your name is Cassandra Johanna von Musel Klossowski de Rolo.”

“Carlotta,” Carlotta corrected idly.

“Oh, Cassandra,” Percival said, sounding sad as the world. “Please-”

“You should go,” Carlotta interrupted. “Mama and Papa will be back for me soon.”

Percival paused awkwardly. “Very well,” he said. He moved to put his hat on.

“Wait,” Carlotta said. “Lock the chest again. Otherwise they’ll know someone was here.”

“Cassandra-” Percival said.

“Please.” Carlotta interrupted. “I’ll get in more trouble if they know that someone opened it.”

She heard Percival sigh, and then the lid of the chest closed above her, and the keys _click-click_ ed it locked.

Carlotta began counting again. At one thousand, she fell asleep.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> WARNING for vague discussion of sexual abuse of a child. Ctrl+F to "Thank you, Mama," to skip past it.

Carlotta woke to light coming into the chest. She blinked her eyes heavily, and when her vision focused, she saw Mama standing above her.

“Hello, beloved,” Mama said softly. She was smiling, which was good. “That was a long two hours, wasn’t it? You even fell asleep.”

“Yes, Mama,” Carlotta said. “Am I allowed to come out now?”

“Oh, of course, my sweet,” Mama said. She held out her hand to Carlotta, and helped her out of the trunk. She was so tired from her two hours in the trunk that her legs were shaking like a baby goat’s, and she could barely hold on to Mama’s hand.

“There’s a good girl,” Papa said. “Do you feel better, sweetling?”

“Yes, Papa,” Carlotta said.

“Do you feel bad for fighting with Mama, now?” He asked.

“Yes, Papa,” Carlotta said. Mama had sat her on the bed and was fussing over her hair with a hairbrush.

“Good girl,” Mama cooed. “And since you’re such a good girl, would you like to come with Mama to visit Miss Ripley?”

“Yes, Mama,” Carlotta said. “What time is it?”

“Around two o’clock,” Mama said, “since punishment was at noon.”

“Okay,” Carlotta said. “May I bring Johanna, please?”

“No, sweet thing. Miss Ripley doesn’t like dolls.”

“Okay, Mama. May I get changed?”

“Of course,” Mama said, kissing Carlotta on the forehead. “Mama will help you.”

“And Papa will wait in the hallway, to see my two favorite girls off,” Papa said, bending to kiss first Mama, on the lips, and then Carlotta, on the forehead. He left the room then, softly closing the door behind him.

“Do you want some quiet time with Mama, darling?” Mama asked, as she brushed Carlotta’s hair.

“No, thank you, Mama,” Carlotta said. She hated having quiet time with Mama, with Mama’s hands exploring Carlotta’s body, with Mama kissing her, with Carlotta going to somewhere else and not being there for it. Quiet time with Mama didn’t ever hurt as much as library time with Papa hurt, but Mama always said that good girls liked quiet time, and Carlotta didn’t like it at all. Papa didn’t talk at all during library time.

Mama yanked on Carlotta’s hair with the brush. “Don’t you love your Mama, Carlotta?”

“I do love you, Mama,” Carlotta said.

“So, do you want to have quiet time with Mama, then?” Mama asked, back to softly brushing Carlotta’s hair.

“... Yes,” Carlotta finally whispered. “I want to have quiet time with you, Mama.”

“Good girl,” Mama said. She set the hairbrush aside on Carlotta’s bureau, and arranged Carlotta against the pillows, and Carlotta went away, far away from her bedroom with Mama and with quiet time as Mama touched her.

“What a good girl you are for Mama,” Mama praised, once quiet time was over. “I’m so proud of you.”

“Thank you, Mama,” Carlotta said, slowly returning from the other place. “Are you going to help me get dressed?”

“Yes, I suppose so, darling,” Mama said, getting up out of Carlotta’s bed and walking to the wardrobe. “Do we want to wear purple, red, yellow, or black today?”

“Purple, Mama,” Carlotta said. “I like my purple dress.”

“Oh, no, darling,” Mama said, “I think today is a yellow day, don’t you?”

“Yes, Mama,” Carlotta said. She sat up in bed and shucked off her nightgown. Then, Mama helped Carlotta get into her dress- a yellow teatime one- and Carlotta slipped on her shoes, the ones she had worn with Robbie.

“Let’s go see Papa and then leave for Miss Ripley’s,” Mama said. “You remember the rules?”

“Same as dinner, Mama,” Carlotta said. “Um, don’t interrupt, don’t talk to the grown-ups unless either of you speak to me first, no dreams.”

Mama pinched Carlotta’s elbow. “What else, Carlotta?”

Carlotta panicked, frantically searching her memory. “Stay still? No asking questions? Be a good girl? Be sweet?”

Mama pinched Carlotta’s neck, on her scar, harder than she had pinched her elbow. “Stay with Mama when we walk there. Don’t talk to anyone going there or coming back, unless Mama gives you permission. Don’t move from where you sit down at Miss Ripley’s house. Remember, sweetie?”

“Yes, Mama,” Carlotta said.

“Do you want a yellow ribbon to go with your pretty dress, Carlotta?” Mama asked.

“Yes, Mama,” Carlotta said.

She hated yellow ribbons.

Mama came back to sit behind Carlotta, and she carefully tied a yellow bow around Carlotta’s head.

“Let’s go say good-bye to Papa, darling,” Mama said. She pulled Carlotta up off the bed and walked her out of the room.

“Look at my two pretty girls!” Papa said. He grabbed Carlotta in a tight hug and spun her around, then set her back on the ground and gave Mama a kiss on the cheek. “Are my two wonderful girls ready to visit Miss Ripley?”

“Yes, Papa,” Carlotta said.

“We’ll probably be there for a few hours, darling,” Mama said. “Back in time for dinner.”

“I will await your return eagerly,” Papa said, kissing Mama’s hand and patting Carlotta on the head.

 

Mama and Carlotta walked out of the castle.

They took the long path to Miss Ripley’s, winding around the Sun Tree (which had criminals hanging on it), through the shops, even past where Robbie’s family had moved in. Robbie and his white-haired cousin were playing outside, and he waved as Mama and Carlotta walked past. Mama ignored him, but Carlotta waved back, just a little.

It took them nearly twice the usual amount of time it usually would to get to Miss Ripley’s, since they took the long way and Mama ran into Lord Tylieri, so they stopped and had a chat.

They finally reached Miss Ripley’s house and knocked on the door after nearly forty-five minutes.

When Miss Ripley answered, she looked upset to see them.

“Lady Delilah. Miss Carlotta. I expected the two of you twenty minutes ago,” she said curtly.

“My _deepest_ apologies, Anna. Carlotta and I enjoyed our stroll on the way here,” Mama said, smiling. Although, her smile didn’t look like the smile of someone who was enjoying the conversation- more the smile of someone who was smiling because otherwise they would be growling.

Miss Ripley returned Mama’s smile. “Of course, the two of you would have some time to dally.”

“Aren’t you going to invite us in, darling?” Mama finally asked, apparently tiring of Miss Ripley’s game. “You and I have much to discuss, you know.”

“Of course, my lady. Please, both of you, do come in,” Miss Ripley said, holding the door open for the two of them.

After they entered, Mama took Carlotta’s elbow and guided her to sit next to her on the couch. This was very rare- usually, Carlotta was sent to a room on the second floor so that she wouldn’t get in the way of the grown-ups’ work. Carlotta sat down carefully next to Mama, who had her arm around Carlotta’s shoulder.

After Carlotta and Mama had settled themselves, Miss Ripley sat down in an armchair across from them. She lifted a small silver bell from the sofa table in between the sofa and the armchair and rang it, summoning a young serving boy, who was holding a small tea tray in his hands. She dismissed him with a small wave after he placed the tray on the table in front of her.

It was not a typical tea tray, with cakes and little sandwiches and things. Instead, there was a large, silver stone, and a vial with a clear potion inside of it.

“Really, Lady Briarwood, I doubt this all is necessary,” Miss Ripley said to Mama, uncorking the vial. “Are you certain that the boy is returned?”

“As certain as I need to be,” Mama replied smoothly, taking the vial from Miss Ripley. “Do not forget, Anna, who has afforded you your wealth and your title.”

“Oh, how could I,” Miss Ripley said. She relaxed minutely into her armchair as Mama uncorked the vial.

“Carlotta, darling,” Mama said, taking Carlotta’s attention away from Miss Ripley, “would you drink this? For Mama?”

Carlotta looked at the small vial. “What is it?”

“It’s just a little potion,” Mama said, swirling around the liquid. “You want to help Mama, don’t you?”

“Yes, Mama,” Carlotta said automatically.

“Good girl,” Mama praised, using a voice like Carlotta was a dog. Mama gently took Carlotta’s chin and fed Carlotta the potion.

“Nearly incestuous,” Carlotta heard Miss Ripley comment distantly.

“Oh, not nearly,” Carlotta heard Mama reply cheerily as Carlotta finished the potion. Mama took the vial away from her mouth and placed it back on the tray.

Carlotta felt a strange feeling wash over her as Mama placed the vial back on the tray- as though she had lost her voice entirely.

“Now, Carlotta,” Mama began, “Countess Ripley and I are going to ask you a few questions, and you’re going to answer them.”

“Yes, Mama,” Carlotta said.

“What do you know about Lady Vex’ahlia’s family?” Mama asked.

“Not much,” Carlotta answered unconsciously. “She and her brother are married, and their son is Robbie, and they have a niece and a cousin and a manservant.”

Mama and Miss Ripley nodded, a bit impatiently.

“And what do you know about Robbie, darling?” Mama asked.

“He’s nine,” Carlotta answered, “he’s annoying, he’s rude, he doesn’t follow the rules of polite society-”

Mama waved her hand. “Yes, yes, we understand. I told you, Anna, she doesn’t know anything.”

“Just hold on a bit, Lady Briarwood,” Miss Ripley said. She leaned forward, placing her elbows on her knees, and stared deep into Carlotta’s eyes. “Carlotta, dear, has Robbie… given you any information that is not normal, in this world?”

“He gave me a note,” Carlotta said, “that said that Mama and Papa weren’t my parents, and that my name is Cassandra de Rolo and that my brother’s name is Percival de Rolo.”

Miss Ripley leaned back and looked at Mama.

“Oh, fine,” Mama snapped. “Maybe you _were_ right, Anna. Don’t worry, I’ll keep an eye on everything.”

“Oh, just do keep me in mind when you find the boy,” Miss Ripley said.

“Oh, I couldn’t _possibly_ forget,” Mama said, voice icy. She stood up, and yanked Carlotta up with her. “Thank you so much for having us, Dr. Ripley. I’m sure we’ll see you at another time, perhaps invite you to a dinner.”

“Castle Whitestone certainly _is_ famous for the dinner parties held there. Don’t you agree, Carlotta?” Miss Ripley asked.

Carlotta looked up, suddenly, at Miss Ripley addressing her. “I’m not sure, Countess Ripley,” she said, words ripped from her mouth. “Most of the dinner parties that I’ve attended at Castle Whitestone have been average.”

“Oh, leave her alone,” Mama snapped, pulling Carlotta towards the door with her.

“I only wanted to speak to the child,” Miss Ripley said, following Mama and Carlotta.

“Don’t you even _start_ , Anna,” Mama said, opening the door and taking herself and Carlotta out of Miss Ripley’s house.

“See you soon, Lady Briarwood,” Miss Ripley said, and she shut the door behind Carlotta and Mama.

“That _woman_ ,” Mama said, fuming. “Don’t you let her get to you, Carlotta, you understand? She doesn’t know anything.”

“Yes, Mama,” Carlotta said, still a bit whirled from how fast Mama and she had left Miss Ripley’s house.

“Now,” Mama said, slowing down, “what did you mean when you said about Robbie’s note?”

“Last time, when we were in the gardens- I think yesterday- Robbie gave me a note, and told me not to tell you about it, and when I opened it when you sent me to bed, and it said that my parents aren’t my parents, and that my name is Cassandra de Rolo, and that my brother’s name is Percival de Rolo,” Carlotta answered, voice still being pulled out of her by a fishing line.

There’s a pause before Mama answered. “That’s a terrible thing that he said to you, Carlotta,” she finally said. “I don’t think that you and Robbie should play together anymore.”

“Okay, Mama,” Carlotta said. She didn’t mind, mostly- Robbie was mostly annoying, except for she was curious about the man who had visited her and what Robbie’s note meant.

“You know that that note was a lie, right, sweetness?” Mama asked. “You’re my sweet daughter, my sweet little Carlotta Isabella Briarwood, from Papa and I.”

“Yes, Mama,” Carlotta answered, voice no longer being torn from her throat.

“Good girl,” Mama said absentmindedly. They had come to the turn which would either shorten their trip or lengthen it, depending whether or not they walked by the place where Robbie’s family lived.

“This way,” Mama finally declared, taking the turn which would shorten the trip and eliminate the path by Robbie’s house.

When they got back to the castle, Papa was waiting for them in the entrance hall.

“And how are my beautiful girls?” Papa asked, sweeping Mama into a deep hug. “Did you two enjoy your visit with Countess Ripley?”

Mama kissed Papa on the cheek and then stepped away. “I really cannot stand that woman,” she said. “We did learn a few useful things, though.”

“Did you?” Papa asked. “Well, that’s good. And I suppose that it was bad news?”

“Oh, it depends on how you look at it,” Mama said, waving her hand. “I’m satisfied with what we learned. I believe we could find a fair oblation without needing our dear, sweet daughter.” At that, she looked down at Carlotta and placed her hand on Carlotta’s head, smiling.

“Well, isn’t that just lovely,” Papa said, smiling at Carlotta as well. “I’m glad that we’ve learned something.”

“Yes, perhaps,” Mama said. “Carlotta, darling, why don’t you go to your room until dinner?”

“Yes, Mama,” Carlotta said. She curtsied, and then walked off to her room.

When she entered, the first thing she did was she slide open the bottommost right drawer (when looking at it) of her vanity.

When she saw the contents, her heart sank. The cookies that had been there the last time she checked had vanished, leaving not even a single crumb behind.

Carlotta shut the drawer, and lay down on her bed, and took Johanna and held her against her chest.

Carlotta slowly slipped off to sleep and began dozing. She didn’t dream this time, only slept with no words or pictures to disturb them.

She was woken some time later by Miss Bridget shaking her shoulder.

“Dinner?” She asked. Miss Bridget nodded. Carlotta stood up off the bed, leaving Johanna behind and following Miss Bridget down to the dining room.

Mama and Papa were absent again, leaving Carlotta to eat half her portion of boiled greens and most of her red, rare venison.

No dessert.

Carlotta went back to her room, Miss Bridget guiding her again.

She changed into her lilac nightgown and lay down in bed with Johanna. She quietly doused her bedside lamp, and want to sleep.

“Cassandra,” she heard, several hours later, waking her. “Cassandra, wake up.”

Carlotta opened her eyes slowly and looked up, and realized that Percival was there, holding a small candle in a dish.

“Hey,” he said, smiling softly. “How are you?”

“I’m alright,” Carlotta said, sitting up and clutching Johanna to her chest. “What is it?”

“Just checking in,” Percival said. “You are my sister, after all.”

Carlotta stared at Percival, but she didn’t disagree. There was too much inside her brain cluttering it up for her to be certain that he was wrong.

“You look better than the last time I saw you,” Percival said quietly.

“I’ve been good,” Carlotta said, “so I don’t have to stay in the chest.”

“Well, that’s… that’s good, I suppose,” Percival said, wavering. “So, how… how was your day?”

“It was alright,” Carlotta said. “I visited Countess Ripley with Mama.”

“Oh?” Percival asked, sounding frightened. “H-how was it?”

“Fine,” Carlotta said. “They made me drink some gross potion, and I couldn’t control what I was saying. I had to tell the truth. They asked me about Robbie.”

“Yeah?” Percival asked. “What did they ask?”

“Dumb stuff,” Carlotta answered offhandedly. She glanced at Percival for a second, but he didn’t show any sign of pinching her or pulling her hair like Mama. “Just about his family, and about the note he gave me.”

“What happened?” Percival asked.

“They just got really upset,” Carlotta said. “Mama said that I’m not allowed to see Robbie or his family anymore.”

“Oh,” Percival said softly. “I’m sorry, about that. I suppose that my friends and I will be coming sooner, rather than later.”

“Alright,” Carlotta said.

There was a brief lull of silence.

“How’s Johanna?” Percival asked. He sounded as though he were choking out her name.

“She’s fine,” Carlotta said. She made Johanna gently wave her arm, and Percival waved back with a wan smile.

“Why don’t you like her?” Carlotta asked.

“I like her fine,” Percival said, sounding somewhat surprised. “She’s a beautiful doll.”

“But you _don’t_ like her,” Carlotta said. “You don’t like her name. You sound sick whenever you hear it. And when I introduced her to you, you looked like you had gotten shocked.”

There was another pause.

“I suppose I did,” Percival said, sounding a bit hollow. “I’m sorry. I do like Johanna, quite a bit, but her name… her name is my mother’s name.”

“So you think that her name is _my_ mother’s name, too,” Carlotta said.

“Yes,” Percival agreed. “That’s what it seems like.”

Carlotta sat on the bed silently for a moment, letting him think whatever he wanted.

“What was she like?” She finally asked. “Your mother.”

“She was… “ Percival paused to consider his words. “She was an amazingly kind woman. She taught me how to speak Celestial, and she taught you how to play piano.”

“Parley in the Feywild,” Carlotta said, the memory coming to the forefront of her mind, unbidden. She was sitting on a piano bench, in the foyer, wearing a simple blue child’s dress and a child’s hat. Her fingers were clumsily whacking the keys of the piano. Next to her, a beautiful woman- a beautiful woman, but she couldn’t see her face, or her dress, or any of what she looked like. Her face was crossed out, exed-out, scribbled out, her body just a silhouette with no features, nothing she could remember at all. But the woman was playing Parley in the Feywild with Carlotta, creating a beautiful melody in contrast to Carlotta’s childish, frenzied pounding..

But there was no piano in the foyer, had never been a beautiful woman playing piano with Carlotta, and Carlotta didn’t even know anything about the song “Parley in the Feywild”.

“That’s right,” Percival said eagerly. “Parley in the Feywild. You played it for Whitney and Oliver’s birthday!”

“Whose?” Carlotta asked, confused. These memories were confusing, with the names that Percival said becoming shrouded as soon as they entered Carlotta’s mind, and although she could remember the figures- she couldn’t, really, she didn’t know who Percival was talking about, but she knew who he was talking about, but she didn’t- she knew and she didn’t know and she had never known and she had always known all at once.

“The twins,” Percival said desperately. “You played jump rope with them, and you climbed trees with them, don’t you remember?”

“I don’t,” Carlotta said, nearly in tears. “I don’t, I don’t, I don’t, I don’t.”

But she did. She remembered in shades and ghosts and more-than-half-forgotten memories and silhouettes and shadows and she knew all the shadows, she knew them and she knew who they were and she knew that she had always known them, but she didn’t. They weren’t real, the way that Mama and Papa and Percival were- Percival, even with his strange, shadow-mask face, with his kindness and his strange words- but wasn’t Percival’s shadow in these new memories as well? Wasn’t he there, alongside the other shadows and younger Carlotta?

“Julius was the oldest son,” Percival continued, as though he were telling a story. “And Vesper, the oldest daughter, and then me and then Whitney and Oliver, the twins, and then Ludwig, and then you, of course.”

The words still came out confused in Carlotta’s mind, and they echoed and they were shaken and confused and upset and fake and not real.

“Who was I?” Carlotta asked, despite herself.

“You were,” Percival began, and then interrupted himself with a heavy swallow. “You were Cassandra Johanna von Musel Klossowski de Rolo.”

The words rang and echoed in Carlotta’s head, like a shadow of a church bell, but she knew them in her heart even as their exact pronunciation escaped her.

“What happened to everyone else?” Carlotta asked, squeezing Johanna tight to her chest. She already suspected what had happened, with how she met Percival, with how the memories came after her, with all the strange names and faces that were coming into her mind.

“They- they all died,” Percival said quietly. “Only you and me are alive.”

Carlotta lay back down on her side, clutching Johanna to her chest. “Okay,” she said.

“I’m sorry,” Percival said. “I’m sorry that you had to- had to find out this way.”

“I probably already knew,” Carlotta said, “but forgot. I forget a lot of things, since I was sick.”

“That’s alright,” Percival said. “I think I’m going to go, now. Unless you have any other questions for me for tonight?”

Carlotta shook her head on her pillow. “I wanna go to sleep.”

“Alright,” Percival whispered, leaning forward and softly stroking Carlotta’s hair. “I’ll see you soon, Cassandra.”

“Good-bye, Percival,” Carlotta whispered.

“Not goodbye, Cassandra,” Percival murmured, as Carlotta drifted to sleep, “only good night.”

Carlotta fell asleep, Johanna clutched to her chest and her blankets pulled up tight over her shoulders.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> warning for vague descriptions of violence and graphic descriptions of blood & dead bodies

Carlotta woke up in the small library- not the library where she had library time with Papa, but the one where Mama used to let her have lessons with Professor Anders. She was sitting in one of the armchairs, while Professor Anders was sitting at his desk, organizing papers.

“Good morning, Professor Anders,” she said politely, sitting up straight. “How are you this morning?”

“Oh, please be quiet, Carlotta,” Professor Anders muttered. He used to like her, Carlotta thought.

Carlotta fell silent and crossed her legs, watching Professor Anders sort his papers.

After what must have been fifteen minutes of watching Professor Anders file papers, he suddenly sat up, alerted by something.

“Carlotta, come here,” he said, standing from the desk. Carlotta obeyed, standing quickly- she was dressed, she realized, in a burgundy and lace formal dress, wearing cream-colored tights and black patent leather shoes, her hair brushed and tied back with a yellow ribbon.

“Now, Carlotta,” Professor Anders said, posing Carlotta in front of himself, “when I push you to the ground, I need you to lie as still as possible, alright? No matter what happens, don’t move, and don’t speak.”

“Yes, Professor Anders,” Carlotta said, as Professor Anders placed his arm around Carlotta’s throat and held up his other hand, which contained a blade.

“Now, Carlotta,” Professor Anders said, “I want you to scream for me, alright? Just shout as loud as you can, like you’re hurt.”

“Yes, Professor Anders,” Carlotta said again. Then, she opened her mouth and shrieked as loudly as possible.

Several moments later- to the point that Professor Anders had begun muttering and seemed upset that perhaps his plan hadn’t worked- the door to the library flew open.

Standing in the doorway was the dark-haired man from the dinner where Carlotta had met Robbie, wearing black armor and a dark cloak.

“Don’t step any closer,” Professor Anders said, pressing the blade closer to Carlotta’s throat, “or the girl gets it.”

The man stopped short for a quick moment, and then slung a blade at Professor Anders.

As the blade through the air, Professor Anders pulled the blade in his hand across Carlotta’s throat, inflicting a thin line of blood. Then, he shoved her to the ground, and she froze like he told her to.

As she lay there, she heard a wide variety of loud noises above her. Clanging and shouting and the sound of loud explosions. At one moment, a heavy metal-clad foot stepped on her back, knocking the breath out of her.

Finally, after several minutes of combat and shouting, a hand reached out and touched her arm. A warm feeling pulsed through her, but Professor Anders hadn’t yet told her to stand up.

“Cassandra?” She finally heard. It was Percival’s voice. He reached out and shook her shoulder. “Cassandra, you can get up now.”

Carlotta opened her eyes. Kneeling in front of her was the small white-haired girl, wearing heavy plate armor. Behind her were several other people, including the dark-haired siblings, the red-headed woman, the very tall gray man, and what looked like Robbie, if he were a short grown-up instead of a regular-sized kid.

“Come on, up we get,” Percival said, pulling her up by her shoulders.

Carlotta stumbled to her feet, with Percival’s hand on her shoulder. There was a brief moment as all the people in the room looked amongst each other.

“Good morning,” Carlotta finally said.

“Uh- h’lo,” said the dark haired man. “Percy, kid, d’you mind if you and me have a good chat?”

Percival nodded, and guided Carlotta over to the armchair she had been asleep in before, and motioned for her to take a seat. Carlotta sat down, and the white-haired girl and the redheaded woman walked over to stand next to her, while Percival walked towards the corner of the room with the dark-haired man.

“So, you’re Cassandra?” The white-haired girl asked.

“Carlotta,” Carlotta corrected absentmindedly.

The redheaded woman leaned down and whispered something in the white-haired girl’s ear. The white-haired girl nodded, and seemingly realized something. The redheaded woman stood up, and smiled tightly at Carlotta.

“Well, my name’s Pike,” said the white-haired girl, holding out her hand for a handshake. “Pike Trickfoot. I’m pretty much the only reason these losers are still alive.”

Carlotta reached out and gently took Pike’s hand in a gentle shake. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

“I’m Keyleth,” the redheaded woman said. “It’s nice to see you again.”

“Yes,” Carlotta said. “You were… you were at the dinner, right? With the brother and the sister.”

“Yeah. Oh, I should probably tell you that they aren’t actually married, or else you might weird them out,” Keyleth said, all in one breath.

“Okay,” Carlotta said. “So, Robbie isn’t actually their son?”

“Robbie?” Keyleth asked, sounding confused. “Oh, Scanlan. No, he’s a fully grown adult gnome. Also, his name is Scanlan.”

“Okay,” Carlotta said. “May I ask you something?”

“Of course, sweetie,” Pike said softly.

“What happened to Professor Anders?”

Pike and Keyleth looked at each other, seemingly struck dumb.

“Uhm, well,” Keyleth began, “Professor Anders… he was a very bad man. And he was going to hurt you, and all of us. So, instead, we made sure that he wouldn’t be able to hurt anybody.”

“How?” Carlotta asked. Professor Anders wasn’t a bad man. Professor Anders was a very kind man, who had helped Carlotta and had taught her about history. He wasn’t a bad man.

Pike’s and Keyleth’s eyes both slid over to the far edge of the room, behind Professor Anders’ desk. Carlotta followed their vision, and she saw-

Professor Anders was lying on the ground, face up, his arms and legs splayed out and his elbows and knees bent at strange angles. His chest- there was a large, deep crimson stain, covering his entire shirt, leaking out onto the stone floor, almost reaching the rug, the rug that could get stained. His face, was wrong, also- in the center of his face was an enormous circle, coated with blood, and the pool of blood was also leaking out of Professor Anders’ head, and that blood had already stained the golden yellow carpet-

A small pair of hands reached forward and yanked her face away from the direction of Professor Anders’ body.

“Cassandra, don’t look,” Pike said forcefully. “Don’t look at him.”

“He’s dead,” Carlotta said, halfway delirious. “He’s dead, Professor Anders is dead.”

“I know,” Pike said, still holding Carlotta’s face. “Don’t look. Everything’s going to be okay. Just look at me. Don’t look at him.”

“Cassandra,” Percival said, trotting over to the armchair, “what’s wrong?”

“He’s dead, Percival,” Carlotta said, voice empty. “Professor Anders is dead.”

“I know,” Percival said, kneeling in front of Carlotta’s chair. “Just don’t look.”

“Percival, what’s happening?” Carlotta asked.

“It’s alright,” Percival said. “Don’t worry. It’s like I said, me and my friends came to help. That’s all.”

“He’s dead,” Carlotta whispered.

“Don’t look,” Percival repeated. “Just don’t look.”

“Do you want to step outside for a moment, Cassandra?” Pike asked.

Carlotta nodded, slowly, and allowed for Pike to pull her up from the chair and pull her out of the library. In the hallway, Carlotta sat down outside the door and curled up against the wall, with her knees to her chest.

“I’m sorry that you had to see that,” Pike said softly. “It wasn’t right.”

“It’s okay,” Carlotta said automatically.

“No, it’s not,” Pike said.

The two sat together in silence for a brief moment, before Robbie- Scanlan- and Percival emerged from the room.

“Cassandra,” Percival said, and then paused, like he was waiting for Carlotta to interrupt him. “Cassandra, listen. It’s going to be very dangerous in here for a few hours, so I wanted you to wait in your room for us to come back. Is that alright?”

“That’s fine,” Carlotta said. “Just in my room?”

“Yes, just in your room,” Percival said, nodding. “Take a nap, if you like, or play with Johanna, but make sure you stay in your room until we come back for you, alright?”

“Alright,” Carlotta agreed, standing up. “Right now?”

“Yes, but let me come with you,” Percival said. “So that you don’t get hurt on the way there.”

“Alright,” Carlotta agreed. She turned down the hallway, Percival walking alongside her.

It only took about three minutes to reach Carlotta’s bedroom from the small library. At the door to her room, Percival gently turned her around before she could enter and gave her a tight hug.

“I’ll see you soon,” he said, with a small smile. “I promise.”

Carlotta froze for a second, and then gently returned the hug. “I hope so,” she whispered. She pulled away from Percival and readjusted her dress. “Good luck.”

Percival nodded his acknowledgement, but he seemed to be rooting around in his pack for something. After a few seconds of digging, he apparently found what he was looking for and pulled it out with a small flourish. In his hand was a small pouch, which, when Percival opened it, Carlotta could see was filled with vanilla cookies with strawberry filling.

“For you,” Percival said. “Don’t eat them all at once or you’ll get sick.”

Carlotta blinked, surprised by the tears pooling in her eyes. “I won’t,” she said. “I’ll see you soon, Percival.”

Percival reached forward to hand the cookies to Carlotta, and squeezed her hand in the moment. “I’ll see you soon, Cassandra. Stay safe.”

With that, Percival stepped away from the door and watched her close it.

In her bedroom, Carlotta walked over to her bed and picked up Johanna, and then sat down on her bed with Johanna in her lap.

“What do you think, Johanna?” She asked quietly. “Do you know what’s going on? Are you scared, too?”

“Oh, don’t be scared, darling,” Carlotta heard Papa say behind her. He reached forward and covered her mouth like during library time, and Carlotta relaxed like she was supposed to, and Papa pulled her back against his chest. “Everything’s going to be okay, my dear.”

There was a momentary slip of shadow, and then Carlotta was lying down somewhere much darker, without Johanna, where she could barely see.

“Don’t you worry, my darling,” Papa said, as he pulled Carlotta up, and placed his hand at the small of her back to guide her forward. “Everything is going to be just fine.”

As Papa guided her, light gradually came back into Carlotta’s eyes, and she saw Mama, standing in a large, pearlescent room, and an enormous green wall, behind which were standing Percival and all of his friends.

Rather, not all of his friends, because the dark-haired man was standing alongside her.

“Hello, Carlotta!” Mama said. She took both of Carlotta’s hands in hers, and pulled her forward towards the green glass wall. “Look, here’s Percival, that nasty boy who hurt Professor Anders and Lord Tylieri and locked up Miss Ripley. Is there anything you want to say to him?”

Carlotta stared at Percival, a bit openmouthed. Percival approached the glass and put his hand up against it.

“But I only just saw him,” she whispered. “I only just saw him a moment ago in the lessons library, and then I went back to my room, and-”

Mama let go of Carlotta’s hands and reached around and pinched the base of her neck. “He knocked you unconscious, Carlotta,” she whispered in Carlotta’s ear. “After he hurt Professor Anders, he hurt you, and then Papa brought you down here. You’ve been unconscious for hours and hours, and you’ve only just woken up. He’s a bad, bad, man, Carlotta.”

“She’s lying, Cassandra,” Percival shouted from behind the glass. “Don’t believe her, she’s lying!”

“Carlotta, I’m your mama,” Mama said, moving her hand again to gently stroke Carlotta’s cheek. “You believe me, don’t you?”

“Cassandra, she’s lying,” Percival shouted. “She’s lying, just look at what she’s done to Vax’ildan! She’s lying to you!”

“Really, Carlotta, listen to your mother,” Papa said, suddenly behind the two.

“I wouldn’t lie to you, my sweet, precious daughter,” Mama cooed. “I wouldn’t.”

“Cassandra!” Percival shouted again. As he shouted, Mama and Papa began talking at the same time, and it was just too loud.

Carlotta covered her ears. “Stop it!” She shouted. “Stop it, stop it, stop it! My name is Carlotta Isabella Briarwood, just stop shouting!”

There was a sudden silence after Carlotta’s outburst, and then Mama was holding her head close to her chest. “It’s alright, Carlotta,” she soothed. “It’s good that you let that bad man know, and I’m very proud of you.”

“Yes,” Papa agreed quietly. “Mama and I are very proud of you, Carlotta.”

Mama lifted Carlotta’s head up and held it so that she was looking in her eyes. “Come now, Carlotta, let’s go and leave these terrible people here.”

Percival banged his fist against the glass one final time, but Mama and Papa were already guiding Carlotta back towards Vax’ildan and out of the light.

The four of them walked in darkness for several minutes, Carlotta being guided by Mama. Then, finally, Mama whispered, “Watch for the stairs, dear sweet.”

In the second right after that, Carlotta’s ankle slammed into a hard stone, which she assumed were the stairs.

It took several long minutes of climbing, the light increasing as they all ascended, until they finally reached the top of what Carlotta could now see was an enormous green pyramid.

“Carlotta, Vax’ildan, wait here,” Mama said, gesturing to a small chaise lounge. “We can relax for several minutes before we return to the castle, now that we know that they won’t be a problem for us.”

Carlotta sat down on one end of the chaise, Vax’ildan on the other, and Mama and Papa stepped into the pyramid and began speaking quietly.

As Carlotta sat on the lounge, her gaze frequently flickered over to Vax’ildan, who remained silent the entire time, and seemed never to move.

After nearly an hour of sitting and waiting, Carlotta saw, very far away, two tufts of white hair peeking up over the top of the pyramid. She stretched upward to look, and Percival popped up over the edge and raised a finger to his lips, and Carlotta slowly sat back into her seat.

Then, suddenly, there was a long arrow sticking out of Mama’s shoulder. At that moment, Percival and Pike leapt up over the edge of the pyramid, and Carlotta saw, on the other side of the pyramid, Keyleth and the tall gray man climbed up.

“Cassandra, duck!” Percival shouted. Carlotta slid off her seat and ducked beneath it, keeping her body low to the ground.

For several minutes, all Carlotta could hear were the sounds of slashing and shouting and banging and bursts of light and explosions. Then, she heard an explosion, and Mama screaming.

“You can’t! I broke the world for us, my love-”

Mama’s voice was cut off with the sound of arrows hitting flesh, and then Carlotta’s hand was taken by someone. When she looked up, she saw it was Mama.

“Carlotta, come with me,” Mama said, pulling Carlotta up. Carlotta stumbled up alongside her, and followed Mama into the pyramid, up to a small altar.

“I had wanted to wait to do this, but, unfortunately, Percival forced my hand,” Mama muttered, taking a small blade off of the altar. “Carlotta, dear, hold your arm over this altar.”

Carlotta obeyed. “Mama, what’s happening? Where’s Papa?”

“Oh, be quiet,” Mama snapped. “Just let Mama do what she has to do.”

Mama took the knife and slowly drew it across Carlotta’s wrist, A thin line of blood bloomed on Carlotta’s wrist, and began to drip downwards.

Then, another arrow embedded itself in Mama’s chest, and Mama looked up and spat out a phrase that Carlotta could not understand.

Behind her, Carlotta heard someone else fall to the ground, and when she turned and checked, she saw Lady Vex’ahlia collapsed flat on the ground.

Then, Carlotta heard a loud explosion, and Mama’s arm spun far away from her body, and she slowly began to collapse.

Then, finally, when Mama hit the ground, the drop of blood fell from Carlotta’s wrist and hit the center of the altar.

Above the altar, where Carlotta’s arm still was, a tiny, black, floating marble rose rose, completely put in one place, and whirling and whirling and whirling around, spinning in place. The marble was pulling her towards it, and it took her a great, terrible effort to pull her arm away, to the point that she fell to her knees before the altar.

“Cassandra,” she heard Percival say, “come here, alright? Just come towards me. Don’t touch that thing above the altar.”

Carlotta looked up and saw Percival, kneeling near the opening of the pyramid, holding his hand out towards her. His eyes, though, were focused on the marble, above and behind Carlotta.

“It’s alright,” he said again, softly. “It’s all alright, now. We’re going to get out of here now.”

Carlotta slowly crawled towards Percival, until she grabbed his hand and he pushed himself off the ground and pulled Carlotta with him. He guided her out of the pyramid, eyes remaining focused on the marble until they were back into the large, green room, and surrounded by Percival’s allies.

“We’d better hurry, Perce,” the large gray man said. He had Mama over his shoulder. “Don’t like the sound of all that rumblin’.”

After he said that, Carlotta realized that there really was a strange, loud rumbling in the cavern, as though it were about to collapse.

“C’mon, let’s go,” Vax’ildan said, holding his sister in his arms, turning and hurrying out of the pyramid.

The rest of the group followed, Carlotta and Percival at the rear, all of them hurrying as fast as they could.

They stopped in the hallway just outside the room with the pyramid. Once in the hallway, everyone sat down, and the large gray man dropped Mama roughly to the floor.

“Are you alright?” Percival asked quietly, as the rest of the group distributed various potions amongst themselves.

“Is Mama dead?” Carlotta asked hollowly.

“No,” Percival said. “She’s only sleeping, for now.”

“What about Papa?” Carlotta asked.

Percival hesitated. “Yes,” he finally said. “He’s dead.”

Carlotta blinked and rubbed her eyes. “Am I in trouble?”

“No, of course not,” Percival said, sounding shocked. “Don’t worry about that.”

“Okay,” Carlotta said.

“Here, let me see your wrist,” Percival said. “I want to make sure that the cut isn’t too deep.”

Carlotta held her wrist out for Percival to inspect, and as he pushed back the sleeve of her dress, he stared.

“Is something wrong?” Carlotta finally asked, after several moments of silence between the two.

“Cassandra,” Percival began, quietly, “where are all these scars from?”

Carlotta looked down at her wrist. It was criss-crossed with several scars.

“It’s always looked like that,” Carlotta said. “Mama always said it was because of when I got sick.”

“When you got sick?” Percival asked. He reached into his pack and pulled out a small roll of bandages.

Carlotta nodded. “I was very sick when I was young. That’s why my memory is so terrible.”

“... Oh,” Percival said. “Okay. We can talk about it later.”

“Alright,” Carlotta said, watching Percival wrap bandages around her wrist.

After Percival finished bandaging Carlotta’s wrist, he stood up carefully. “I’ll be right back,” he said gently. “I’m just going to go talk to Vex’ahlia and Vax’ildan, alright?”

“Okay,” Carlotta said.

Percival walked over to the dark-haired twins, and, not long after the conversation began, Keyleth and the two gnomes joined in. Only the large gray man continued to watch Carlotta.

Which, apparently, was very lucky for Mama, because as Carlotta turned away from her eye contact with the gray man, she saw that Mama was gone from where she had been lying down.

“Oh, dammit,” Carlotta heard Vax’ildan curse across the room. When she looked over, he had also apparently noticed Mama’s disappearance.

“Fuck,” Percival added, before he started sprinting down the tunnel, with Vax’ildan, Vex’ahlia, Pike and Keyleth all following, leaving Scanlan, Carlotta, and the large gray man alone.

Until Mama reappeared, speaking to the large man in her soft, sweet voice.

“Don’t you want to help us? I could give you power, and strength, and the blood of your enemies-”

“Dammit!” Scanlan shouted, throwing out his arm. A bright flash of energy flew out from his hand, hitting Mama’s head. As it hit, Mama’s voice seemed to fall flat, less persuasive and less kind, more like any other normal woman.

At that exact moment, the large gray man’s hand flew out and grabbed Mama’s neck tightly.

“I really don’t like it when folks try t’ mess with my head,” he growled. He threw Mama to the ground and began attacking her with his greataxe.

“Oh, no,” Carlotta whispered as Mama bled, unable to tear her eyes away from her. “Oh, no.”

“Grog, buddy,” Scanlan said, after what seemed like a million years of watching the strikes and the blood and the hurting, “I think that’s enough.”

Grog looked over at Scanlan. “Alright,” he said, finally letting Mama drop.

Scanlan put his hand up to his ear and quietly spoke for a few moments. Several moments after that, Percival, Pike, Keyleth, and the twins hurried back into the hallway.

“Oh, shit,” Vax’ildan said, looking at Mama’s body.

“What the fuck did you do, Grog?” Percival asked.

“She was messin’ with my head,” Grog protested. “Castin’ spells and shit.”

“That doesn’t mean you kill her, you oaf!” Vex’ahlia berated.

“Or, hey,” Scanlan interrupted, “how about someone clear the traumatized child on outta here?”

At his comment, everyone seemed to notice Carlotta again.

“Oh, shit,” Percival said.

“Cassandra, darling,” Vex’ahlia asked quietly, “are you alright?”

“I’m fine, thank you,” Carlotta answered, eyes still wide.

“Here, let’s go back upstairs,” Percival said, moving over to help Carlotta stand.

Carlotta stood up before Percival could get to her, then promptly vomited all over both herself and the floor. After staring at Mama’s body and the vomit all over herself and the floor, she fainted dead away.


	6. Chapter 6

Carlotta woke up in her bed, still wearing her formal oxblood velvet and white lace dress, her cream-colored stockings and her yellow hair ribbon. Only her shoes were missing.

When she sat up in her bed, she saw her shoes waiting for her next to her bed and Johanna sitting on her bedside table.

Carlotta carefully reached out and pulled Johanna into her lap.

“Oh, what’s happening, Johanna?” She asked quietly. “I know Percival said that he was going to come here, but I didn’t know he was going to do all that.”

Carlotta lapsed for a moment and just sat quietly with Johanna.

“Do you think Mama’s alright?” She finally asked.

Another moment of silence.

“I’m not sure I do, either,” she said.

As Carlotta finished her sentence, there was a loud knock at the door, causing Carlotta to startle. After another moment, there was another knock. Then, the door opened slowly, and Percival looked in.

“May I come in?” He asked.

“Yes, of course,” Carlotta answered. Percival came in, quietly closing the door behind him.

“Do you mind if I sit?”

“No, not at all,” Carlotta answered. Percival pulled out the desk chair and slowly sat down.

“Are you alright, Cassandra?” He finally asked, after a moment of silence.

“Yes, I’m fine, tha-”

“No, no, no,” Percival interrupted. “No, Cassandra, for real. I want to know how you really feel right now.”

Carlotta blinked, and considered. “I’m not really sure,” she finally said. “Sad, probably, because Mama and Papa are dead, I think.” She blinked again. “It’s hard for me to tell.”

“Well, alright,” Percival said. “But I want you to be honest about how you feel, okay?”

“Alright,” Carlotta said. The two lapsed into silence.

“How long has it been?” Carlotta finally asked. “Since the fight, I mean.”

“Only a few hours,” Percival replied. “We were all worried after you fainted, but Pike said you were alright.”

“What time is it, right now?”

“Last I checked, it was about six o’clock in the evening,” Percival answered.

“And Mama and Papa are dead, right?” Carlotta asked. “I know that Papa is, but I’m not certain about Mama.”

“Yes,” Percival said. “Yes, they’re both dead.”

“That’s what I thought,” Carlotta said.

There was another long bout of silence.

“Do you want to get changed?” Percival finally asked. “You, ah, still have a bit of… “ He pointed to his collar.

Carlotta looked down at her own collar, holding it in her hand, and saw that there were, indeed, still specks of vomit on it.

“Okay,” she said. She placed Johanna aside, stood up, and walked over to the wardrobe.

“Oh, uh, right now, okay,” Percival said, stumbling to his feet. “I’ll just, uh go wait outside. Just come on out when you’re done, alright?”

“Okay,” Carlotta answered, but Percival had already left the room.

Carlotta opened the door of her wardrobe. Inside was what looked like hundreds of dresses. All the colors of the rainbow, and yet, it all seemed to be overtaken by yellow.

Carlotta reached out her hand, retracted it, reached out and retracted it several more times over three minutes.

Finally, she decided to begin by stripping out of her clothes. She unbuttoned her dress, wriggled out of the sleeves, and allowed it to fall in a puddle around her ankles. She stepped out of it, and then peeled off her stockings. Finally, she pulled on the edge of her hair ribbon, and allowed it to fall to the floor behind her.

Once all of her clothes and accessories were on the floor, she stooped over and gathered them all up in her arms, and then walked over and placed them in her hamper. Then, she returned to her wardrobe.

Now, she couldn’t find a dress and was naked.

Finally, after several more moments of staring at her wardrobe, Carlotta timidly reached out and took out her lavender tea dress.

She slowly got dressed, hesitating every few steps as she buttoned the dress up her back and laced up her petticoats. Then, she pulled out a pair of white ankle socks and pulled them on, before she finally walked back over to her bed and put her patent leather shoes back on. As a brief afterthought, she grabbed Johanna off of her bed. Then, she took Johanna and changed her out of her nightgown and into a blue tea dress. Once she had assured herself that she and Johanna were both completely alright and dressed properly, she opened the door out to the hallway.

“Oh! Hi!” Pike said. She was standing next to Percival, and had apparently been having a conversation with him when Carlotta left her room. “Do you feel better?”

“Hello,” Carlotta said quietly, somewhat surprised by Pike’s exuberance. “I feel… better, than before, I suppose.”

“Well, that’s good!” Pike said cheerfully. “I like your dress!”

Carlotta looked down at herself, as though she had forgotten what she was wearing. “Thank you,” she said. “It’s my favorite.”

“It’s very pretty,” Pike said encouragingly.

“Thank you,” Carlotta said again.

“Cassandra, my friends and I are having dinner in the dining room in a few minutes,” Percival said. “Would you like to join us?”

“Alright,” Carlotta answered.

“Well, let’s all head down there together, then,” Pike said. “Vex and Vax and Keyleth are probably already waiting.”

“Yes, let’s,” Percival agreed, and the three began walking down the stairs, Carlotta behind Pike and Percival.

In the dining room, Vax’ildan, Vex’ahlia, and Keyleth were indeed all waiting. The table was set so that there was no head of the table, only four seats on each long side. Vax’ildan was sitting on the right-hand side closest to where the head would be, Vex’ahlia next to him, and Keyleth across from him. There was a maid that Carlotta didn’t recognize standing against the far wall. The three at the table all seemed engaged in conversation, and didn’t seem to notice Pike, Percival, and Carlotta entering.

“Do you have a preference of where to sit?” Percival asked Carlotta quietly.

“No, I don’t mind,” Carlotta replied, as she twisted Johanna’s arm around. The last time that Carlotta had had dinner with other people seemed to have been years and years and years ago..

Percival nodded, and walked forward to the table. He pulled out a chair for Carlotta, next to where Vex’ahlia was sitting. After Carlotta had sat down and pulled her chair in, Percival took the seat next to her, while Pike took the middle unoccupied seat on the other side, across from Carlotta.

“Oh, hello, darling,” Vex’ahlia said to Carlotta. “I don’t believe we’ve met, really. My name’s Vex’ahlia.” She held out her hand for a handshake.

“Hello,” Carlotta said, setting Johanna down in her lap and shaking Vex’ahlia’s hand. “I thought we did meet.”

“No, that doesn’t count,” Vex’ahlia said, waving her hand to dismiss the idea. “That time, I was pretending to be someone else. Now I’m me again.”

“Okay,” Carlotta said, although she was still a bit confused.

“I like your doll,” Vex’ahlia said, gesturing towards Johanna. “What’s her name?”

Carlotta looked down at Johanna. “Johanna,” she replied.

“Her dress is just lovely,” Vex’ahlia said.

“Thank you,” Carlotta replied.

At that moment, Scanlan and Grog both entered the dining room and beelined to the chairs that were left- Scanlan taking the seat between Keyleth and Pike and across from Vex’ahlia, and Grog the seat on the other side of Pike, across from Percival. After they had both sat down, the maid exited the room.

After a few moments of conversation, the maid returned, carrying several plates of food, each holding a small salad and a side of meat. She set down a plate in front of Vax’ildan, Vex’ahlia, Carlotta and Percival, and then returned to the kitchen. She came back out carrying four more plates- one was entirely salad, two were mostly salad with a small helping of meat, and the final plate was just an enormous helping of meat. The maid set down the salad plate in front of Keyleth, the two mostly salad plates in front of Scanlan and Pike, and the plate full of meat in front of Grog.

“If I may, sir,” she said, after she had set down all the meals, “it’s good to be serving a de Rolo again.”

“It’s good to be back here again,” Percival said, smiling. The maid curtsied, and then returned to the kitchen again.

Carlotta quietly ate her meal, leaving half of each, as always, and staying out of the conversation.

“Are you feeling alright, darling?” Vex’ahlia quietly asked Carlotta, after several minutes of dinner.

Carlotta blinked and looked up at Vex’ahlia. “Yes, I’m fine,” she replied. “Why do you ask?”

“You’re not eating much of your dinner,” Vex’ahlia said. “And you’re being very quiet. Are you certain that you’re alright?”

“Yes,” Carlotta answered. “I’m not allowed to speak at dinner unless spoken to. And I’m not meant to eat my entire dinner, it’s not good for me.”

“Who told you that?” Vex’ahlia asked softly.

“Mama said,” Carlotta replied. She blinked quickly when she mentioned Mama.

“Oh,” Vex’ahlia said softly. “Okay. But, you know, it’s important for a growing girl to eat. And besides, I think we’d all like to talk to you, and that would be difficult to do if we all have to wait to have conversations with you.”

“Okay,” Carlotta said. “I’m sorry for being difficult.”

“Don’t apologize, darling,” Vex’ahlia said. “It’s just that you don’t have to do what your- what that woman said you had to, all the time, alright?”

“Okay,” Carlotta said. She returned to poking at the remains of her dinner, and even managed to almost finish her salad.

Finally, everyone else finished their dinner and the plates were returned to the kitchen. Grog, Pike, and Vax’ildan had grown loud and exuberant after they had both finished what looked like fully a trough’s worth of beer, and Grog was lifting Percival on his shoulders as Keyleth, Scanlan, and Vex’ahlia clapped and cheered him on.

It was at that point, with Carlotta standing in the corner of the room, no one paying attention to her, that she realized she could just go. Just leave, and go to the library, or back to her room, or even just walk out of the castle. She was playing with Johanna, swinging her back and forth, considering the possibilities, until her thoughts were interrupted.

“What’s going on with you, then?” Vax’ildan asked, somehow having snuck away from the crowd and towards the corner where Carlotta was standing.

“Nothing,” Carlotta said, after she recovered from her brief heart attack. She continued playing with Johanna.

“And your doll, her name’s Johanna, right? I heard you and my sister talking about it.”

“Yes, that’s right,” Carlotta said.

“Not very chatty, are you?”

“Children aren’t supposed to speak unless spoken to,” Carlotta answered.

“Well, that’s outrageous,” Vax’ildan commented. “Me and my sister, we only ever spoke when we weren’t spoken to.”

“Mm,” Carlotta replied.

“So, are we making conversation now?” Vax’ildan asked

“I don’t know,” Carlotta answered. “Are we?” She scrunched her shoulders up, in an effort to protect the pinch that never came.

“Yes, I think we are,” Vax’ildan agreed with himself. “What’s one of your favorite things to talk about?”

“I don’t know,” Carlotta answered. “You said that I wasn’t very chatty, right?” She scrunched her shoulders again, and relaxed again.

“What’s one thing you like?” Vax’ildan asked. “Any books, or hobbies, or friends?”

“No,” Carlotta replied.

“No friends, even?” Vax’ildan asked, sounding shocked.

“Well, I _thought_ that Scanlan was my friend, but he was lying,” Carlotta said simply.

Vax’ildan snorted. “Yeah, he does that.”

They both fell silent.

“Vax!” Grog shouted, from the middle of the room, startling Carlotta. “Buddy! Get in here!”

“Probably shouldn’t ignore that,” Vax’ildan said to Carlotta. “Talk to you later?”

“Okay,” Carlotta answered.

Once Vax’ildan had rejoined his family, Carlotta seized the moment and left the dining room, returning to her bedroom.

She changed into her light blue nightgown first, hanging her dress back up and placing her underclothes in the hamper. Then, she set Johanna down on her desk, before she turned back to her bureau.

On her bureau was the package of vanilla cookies that Percival had brought her earlier in the day, but crushed flat several times over. The paper was ripped in several places, and crumbs were spilling out over the surface of the bureau.

“Oh,” Carlotta said to herself. “That’s a shame.”

She was wondering what to do with the package when her door flew open.

“Cassandra, there you are!” Percival said, evidently relieved. “You had us worried.”

After he said that, he put his finger to his ear and whispered a few quiet words, and then he removed his finger and fully walked into Carlotta’s room.

“What in the world are you doing here?” He asked, leaning against the wall. “When I noticed you were gone, I almost had a heart attack.”

“I’m sorry,” Carlotta said. “I decided to go to bed.”

Percival sighed heavily, and rubbed his eye with his hand. “Don’t scare me like that, Cassandra. If you’re going to disappear from somewhere like that, let me know beforehand, alright?”

“Alright,” Carlotta said easily.

Percival sighed again, and then smiled at Carlotta. “I don’t mean to be upset with you, Cassandra. It’s just that I only just got you back today, and I don’t want to lose you again.”

“Okay,” Carlotta said. She wasn’t entirely certain of what to make of the situation.

“Oh, what happened to the cookies?” Percival asked, finally taking notice of them. “I thought you liked them.”

“I do,” Carlotta said. “I don’t know how they got crushed. They were like that when I came in just now.”

“Huh,” Percival said. “You should probably throw it out. You don’t want mice to come in here.”

“Okay,” Carlotta said.

An awkward pause followed.

“You should probably get some sleep,” Percival finally said. “I want to see if I can help you remember some things tomorrow.”

“Alright,” Carlotta agreed.

There was another pause.

“Well, good night, then,” Percival said.

“Good night,” Carlotta replied. Percival turned and left the room, shutting the door slightly behind him.

After a moment, Carlotta took Johanna up from the desk and hugged her close to her chest.

“Wasn’t that odd,” she murmured to Johanna. Then, she changed Johanna out of her nice dress and put her in a white nightgown.

Finally, Carlotta sat down on her bed, and then lay down.

“I’m so tired, Johanna,” she whispered. Warm tears began flowing down her face, and she sniffled. “I don’t know what’s going on, or why Percival hurt Mama and Papa and Countess Ripley.”

She wiped her eyes with the heel of her palm.

“I just wish I understood,” she finally said quietly.

After a final swipe at her tears, Carlotta fell asleep.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> trigger warning for discussions of childhood sexual abuse. starts at 'Percival moved over to Papa's desk right away' and ends at '"Oh, never mind,"'.
> 
> theres also some references to centipedes in this chapter, from "The last chapter of the book" to "Carlotta shut the book and got out of her chair" and "You always cried at the-" to "Alright, Cassandra"

Carlotta woke up in the morning with echoes of unfamiliar moments, images, and places still ghosting through her mind.

When she sat up on the edge of her bed, she thought, for a moment, that she was in the wrong room- her dreams had painted a room with plaster walls, light purple, and it was much larger than her six steps by five steps room. Her bed was large and had a canopy, and there was a mountain of stuffed animals somewhere. Most strange of all, though, her dreams painted windows on the walls of her room, with bright sunlight streaming through and rain pattering against the glass.

Carlotta shook her head free of those strange dreams. Her room was her room, and she was already breaking enough of Mama and Papa’s rules. No funny dreams.

Carlotta carefully lit her bedside lamp, then looked around the room, and saw that Johanna had fallen off the bed in the night. She leaned over and scooped her back up into her lap.

Usually, when Carlotta got up in the morning, it was because Miss Bridget had come to get her. Recently, it had been Mama coming to get her in the morning, but that wasn’t usual.

But now that Mama and Papa were gone, that probably meant that Miss Bridget was gone too. Carlotta wasn’t even certain if anyone was going to come and get her.

Percival had said not to leave without letting him know, though, so Carlotta should probably stay there.

Carlotta sat on her bed for several minutes, and then moved over to her vanity. She sat down on her stool, arranged Johanna in her lap, and stared at her reflection.

Her reflection was eerily backlit by the bedside lamp, giving her deep shadows beneath her eyes and a golden glow on the outline of her hair.

Slowly, Carlotta reached towards her hairbrush, and began brushing her hair, until it was shining smooth.

Then, Carlotta was still stuck sitting at her vanity, staring at her reflection with her shiny smooth hair and Johanna sitting in her lap.

After several more moments of sitting, Carlotta stood up, holding Johanna’s arm, and moved back over to her bed, where she lay down, and started waiting.

After a few more minutes of waiting, Carlotta decided to start counting, only for a lack of anything else to do.

Carlotta lost track somewhere around thirty-six hundred and forty-eight, and started over. Then, she managed to get up to seventeen hundred and twenty-three before she had to start over, and then forty-four hundred and nine, when her door slowly opened.

“Cassandra?” Percival asked, as he ducked into Carlotta’s room. “Oh, are you awake already?”

“Yes,” Carlotta answered, sitting up in bed. “I’ve been awake for a while.”

“Really?” Percival asked, brow furrowed. “How long have you been awake?”

“I’m not sure,” Carlotta said. “I managed to count to thirty-six hundred, seventeen hundred, and forty-four hundred.”

Percival squinted, and his gaze slid to somewhere behind Carlotta, and he began moving his hand around in the air.

“You’ve been awake for three hours?” He exclaimed, as he suddenly came back into himself.

“I suppose,” Carlotta replied.

“Do you _always_ get up this early?” Percival asked. “I’m the only one who’s awake from my group, and I’ve only been awake for about a half hour.”

“I suppose,” Carlotta said again. “It’s hard to tell what time it is.”

Percival looked around the room. “I guess it would be,” he said. “What were you doing for three hours in here, anyway?”

“Counting,” Carlotta said. “Also, I brushed my hair.”

Percival’s brow furrowed again as he looked at Carlotta. “Just counting? Didn’t you get bored?”

“I guess so,” Carlotta said. “But I wasn’t certain if I was allowed to leave without permission.”

Percival’s brow unfurrowed and he halfway smiled. “Tell you what, you can leave your room in the morning as long as you’re dressed and you don’t leave the castle, okay?”

“Alright,” Carlotta said, and then she stared at Percival.

“So, would you like to have breakfast with me? We’ve got some time- rather a bit, actually- until the others wake up, so we could have a quiet meal for once.”

“Alright,” Carlotta said. “Should I get dressed?”

“Yeah, probably,” Percival said. “Maybe something casual, though, instead of something formal.”

“Okay,” Carlotta said, as Percival stepped out the door.

Carlotta walked over to her armoire, shucked off her nightgown, and looked at the clothes again.

Something casual, so that meant either a tea dress or a play dress. Carlotta reached into the wardrobe and shuffled through the dresses- formal, formal, ball gown, formal, nightgown, yellow, yellow, formal. It wasn’t for another two minutes that Carlotta finally found a palatable play dress. It was a very light blue cotton play dress, which went down to just past Carlotta’s knees, with puffed shoulders of the wrist-length sleeves. There was lace at the edge of the sleeves, the hem of the skirt, and the edge of the crinkled shoulder organza.

The dress also had a pair of matching tights, though the tights were more white than robin’s-egg colored. Finally, Carlotta reached under her bed and found her brown ankle boots and pulled them on.

After Carlotta was dressed, she carefully arranged Johanna on her pillow, and then stepped out of the room.

“Ready?” Percival asked, once Carlotta was in the hallway.

“Yes,” Carlotta answered, fidgeting. She wasn’t used to not having anything in her hands.

“Alright. Come on, we can have breakfast in the sunroom, instead of the dining hall.”

“Alright,” Carlotta. said. She didn’t particularly want to start her day off in the dreary gloom of the sunroom, but she didn’t get to eat breakfast with people very often.

Before they went to the sunroom, Percival ducked into the kitchens and requested breakfast be made and delivered to the sunroom.

When they walked into the sunroom, Carlotta stumbled a step from how bright the sunroom was. Instead of the grayish greenish mist that Carlotta was used to, the air outside was clean and bright, with the sun rising in the distance.

“Cassandra?” Percival asked, holding Carlotta gently by the elbow. “Are you alright?”

“‘M fine,” Carlotta finally mumbled, after another moment of adjustment- she flinched again, waiting for another punishment that didn’t come. “I’m sorry. I’m alright. It’s just much brighter than usual.”

“Brighter?” Percival asked. He looked between Carlotta and the windows. “Oh, yes. there’s no more fog. Isn’t that wonderful?”

“Yes, it’s wonderful,” Carlotta said stiffly. Finally, she could see into the sunroom, when she squinted. “I’m alright, now.”

“If you’re sure,” Percival said. He walked over to the small circular table, which had two small chairs sitting by it. He took the farther chair, the one with its back to the stone corner of the sunroom, and Carlotta took the other, which had its back to the glass corner of the sunroom.

The two sat together in silence for several minutes, as Carlotta’s eyes slowly adjusted to the sun in the room.

“Carlotta,” Percival said, finally breaking the silence, “I was wondering if you would be willing to spend some time today with Pike. She thought that she might be able to help you.”

“Okay,” Carlotta said.

Percival blinked as the maid entered and set down the two breakfast plates. He looked over and thanked her quickly, before he went back to looking at Carlotta.

“Do you want to know what she wants to help you with?” He asked.

“It doesn’t matter,” Carlotta said. She took a sip of her apple juice. “I’ll talk with Pike if you want me to.”

“You can say no if you don’t want to, you know,” Percival said, after he ate a small sausage. “I’m not giving you orders. You can say no if you want to.”

“Okay,” Carlotta said. She began eating her toast.

They finished eating their breakfast in silence- Carlotta leaving behind half of her toast and half of her apple juice, while Percival ate his entire meal.

They took their plates back to the kitchen and left them with the staff there.

“You know,” Percival commented, after they left the kitchen, “we’ve still got at least three hours before even Keyleth wakes up. Would you like to do anything until then?”

“Sure,” Carlotta said.

Percival stared at her in silence. “Such as?”

“I don’t know,” Carlotta said. “What do you want to do?”

Percival sighed, and seemed to consider. “What about the library? You could find a book.”

“Okay,” Carlotta agreed. She wasn’t going to mention that Mama didn’t like for Carlotta to be in the library without Papa, since Percival already seemed upset that Carlotta couldn’t think of anything.

Percival guided Carlotta up to the largest library, the one on the second floor that used to have all the windows in it. The windows got covered by the bookshelves, but someone had shoved half of them aside in order to bring in the light, and Carlotta’s eyes ached even with the dull sunlight.

Percival moved over to Papa’s desk right away, and began tracing the wood.

“Cassandra,” he said, “do you happen to know where these markings came from?”

Carlotta walked over and looked at the crescent moon scars carved deep into the oak grains. “Oh, I did that,” she said.

“Why?” Percival asked.

“During library time,” Carlotta explained. “It used to hurt a lot more. It doesn’t anymore though, so I don’t hurt the desks at all now.” She looked down at her blunt nails. “And my nails, see, they’re trimmed much more regularly than they were.”

Percival stared at Carlotta, with a sort of confused shock as if he had just watched one of his closest friends strangle a kitten to death. “I’m so _sorry_ , Cassandra,” he said, sadly.

“It’s alright,” Carlotta said. “It hasn’t hurt in a long time.”

There was a peculiar feeling deep inside her, as though she was almost missing the point of what Percival was saying. But it was true, though- library time hadn’t hurt in ages, and it was over and done with so fast that Carlotta barely even had time to go somewhere else while it was happening.

“Oh, never mind,” Percival said, still sounding terribly sad. “Do you want to find a book to read? I could help you find one of your old favorites.”

“Okay,” Carlotta agreed. She followed Percival as he began walking through the bookshelves, running his finger along the spines of the books. He kept getting turned around, like he was trying to find his way around in a city that had been burned down and rebuilt.

Finally, he just began wandering the shelves, reading every title, looking for the book he thought might be Carlotta’s old favorite.

After several minutes of wandering the stacks, Percival finally exclaimed and pulled out a slim, blue book off the shelf.

“Here we go,” he said, wiping the dust off the book. “ _The Fey Prince_. Remember?”

“No,” Carlotta said. There was another moment of complete and total silence as Percival looked at her, staring.

“Sorry,” Carlotta added.

Percival shook his head. “No, no, it’s not your fault, It’s just… you were always reading this one.” He handed it to her. “Why don’t you go read in one of the armchairs? I’ll find my own book.”

“Okay,” Carlotta said. She took the book from Percival and hurried over to one of the armchairs. She climbed onto it and opened the book.

 _The Fey Prince_ started out being about a little boy who fell into the Feywild, and he had to go on adventures to try and save his shadow from an archfey.

At the end of his adventures, after he swam to the bottom of the ocean in one breath and after he jumped higher than the sun and after he carried a princess across a pond using the reflections of stars, the boy finally came to the archfey.

The last chapter of the book was torn out, though, and instead there was a large, dead centipede, curled up on itself several times, forming a hypnotic spiral.

After gazing at the arthropod for several moments, Carlotta shut the book and got out of her chair.

When she looked around her area for Percival, she didn’t see him. After she walked around the library, listening intently, she realized that he wasn’t in the library at all.

This gave Carlotta a moment of pause. She was almost never left alone outside of her bedroom, and definitely not somewhere where someone might be working, like the library.

After several moments of standing stock-still, Carlotta slowly moved back to her seat and began reading _The Fey Prince_ again.

Finally, when she was halfway through reading the adventure of the boy jumping higher than the sun, the door to the library clicked opened. When Carlotta looked over, she saw Percival and Pike walk through the library door.

“Hello, Cassandra,” Percival said. “Not done with your book, yet?”

“No, I did,” Carlotta replied. “But I started reading it again.”

Percival's brow furrowed. “Why didn't you get a new book?”

Carlotta fidgeted. “I wasn't sure if I was allowed.”

“Of course you're allowed,” Percival said, striding towards Carlotta. She cowered for a moment, and Percival slowed down his pace, and only took _The Fey Prince_ out of Carlotta's hands.

“Did you remember this at all?” He asked, flipping through the pages.

“No,” Carlotta said quietly. “But I liked it an awful lot.”

“Really?” Percival asked, as his fingers began flitting towards the end of the book. “You always cried at the- augh!”

As Percival reached the final page of the book, it fell out of his grip and onto the floor. The centipede slithered out of the pages and began skittering out of the room before Pike squished it.

“ _Fuck_!” Percival said emphatically, one hand over his heart. “Cassandra, did you put that there?”

“The centipede?” Carlotta asked. “No, that was there the first time I read that book.”

“ _Fuck_ ,” Percival said again. “It isn't meant to be. I'm going to throw this out.”

He picked the book up off the floor and used it to scrape up a bit of the centipede guts. Then, holding it by the cover between two fingers. He looked around for some kind of receptacle, but the library was empty of anything but Papa’s desk and the shelves. Instead, he just placed it atop one of the bookshelves.

“Alright, Cassandra,” Pike said, after there was a brief moment of awkward silence, “would you mind if I cast a kind of healing spell on you? I want to help you to feel better and so that you can remember what happened to you. Like how you got sick when you were little and you couldn’t remember, right?”

“Okay,” Carlotta said. “That’s alright.”

Pike climbed into the armchair next to Carlotta, and slowly formed a small, golden sphere of light betwixt her palms. She reached out, slowly, and pressed her palms to both sides of Carlotta’s head.

As the warmth of Pike’s magic pulsed through Carlotta’s temples, there was a sudden peeling of her memories, as though they were wrapped in old, yellowing paper. As the wrapping fell away from her mind, she saw a million bright flashes of memories- all were hers, but none were possible. She was two, eight, nine, twelve, six, four, but Mama and Papa weren’t in any of them. There was Percival in them, but younger, smiling, eyes wide and happy, hair chestnut brown instead of bright white.

And then, alongside Percival in the memories appeared the silhouettes and shades.

Whitney and Oliver and her and a shaded courtyard with a jump rope chanting _Ted_ -dy bear, _ted_ -dy bear, turn a- _round_. Vesper and her and a large armchair in the library and reading _The young boy carefully set his toes on the first star, being sure not to jostle his passenger_. Julius and her and an enormous sheet of paper that she was walking all over in order to draw all of Whitestone Castle. Ludwig and her and exploring secret passageways and finding out the quickest and secretest ways to get around. Her father- not Papa, but a tall, broad, black-haired and black-bearded man with deep blue eyes- and her and sitting in the library at Papa’s desk tracing lines to portraits and names with their fingers. The beautiful woman from the piano, now with beautiful brown hair and shining green eyes and a sky-blue dress, sitting next to her and playing the melody to Parley in the Feywild.

Percival and Whitestone in the sun and walking around together, Percival telling her not to let go of his hand.

The memories rebounded through her mind, zooming back and forth and finding their proper places, but it was so hard for them to fit in with all the memories Carlotta still had of Mama and Papa and of not having any memories of these people and of them not existing.

The new memories finding their places with all of the normal memories caused a sharp pain in Carlotta’s head, that grew worse and worse as the memories continued, not so polite to come one at a time but frequently coming in sloppy piles and mounds.

The sudden influx lasted for what felt like hours, or days, or years and years of a stolen personality. The memories finally began to taper off, though, and with them the pain, and with the pain being relieved, Carlotta- not Carlotta, not in the memories- realized that she had been shrieking in pain, and abruptly stopped.

“Cassandra?” Percival asked, sounding concerned. “Cassandra, are you alright?”

Carlotta opened her eyes and took a few unsteady steps towards the door, desperate to return to her room, before she collapsed on the floor of the library.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> quick note, chapters might be slowing down a little now that im back in school just fyi.

When Carlotta came to, she was lying back in her bed, with a cold cloth on her forehead. Before she could open her eyes, she heard the door to her bedroom open, and someone stepped through.

“Percival,” she heard Vax’ildan say.

“Hello, Vax,” Percival answered. He sounded like he was much closer than Vax’ildan was.

“Is she still asleep?” Vax’ildan asked, with a sound as though he was scraping a chair across the stones and collapsing into it.

“Yup,” Percival said.

There followed a long stretch of silence.

“Are you gonna keep waiting for her?” Vax’ildan asked. “There’s some folks in town who want to be havin’ a talk with you.”

There was another long silence, until, finally, Percival sighed heavily. “Fuck. Fine, fuck it. I don’t think she’ll be waking up anytime soon anyways.”

“Don’t worry, I’ll let you know if she does,” Vax’ildan said. “Everyone who wants to chat is in the main hall, so I’ll just call you on the earring.”

“Alright, alright,” Percival said, with the sound of him standing up. “I’ll be right back. Just-”

“I’ll keep a close eye on her, Freddy,” Vax’ildan said. “Don’t you worry.”

Carlotta heard the door open and close, and then there was a long period of silence.

After she counted to three hundred, she finally opened her eyes and sat up in bed, letting the cloth fall to her lap. Vax’ildan was still in the room, sitting in a chair that he must have brought with him, leaning back and reading a book.

“Hello, there,” he said, once he noticed Carlotta was awake. “Are you feeling better?”

“I suppose,” Carlotta replied. “Have I been asleep long?”

“‘S around one, now, an’ Percy reckoned that you fainted around nine, so a good few hours or so,” Vax’ildan said, setting his book aside.

“Alright,” Carlotta said. She turned so that she was sitting on the side of her bed and facing Vax’ildan. She began idly kicking her legs back and forth.

Vax’ildan was silent for a moment.

“You remember anything, then?” He finally asked. “Back to normal?”

As Vax’ildan said that, a sharp pain erupted in Carlotta’s brain again. She rubbed her forehead before she retracted her hand. “I remembered some things,” she said. “But it feels weird. As if I can’t tell whether or not they’re real. It doesn’t seem like they are.”

“... Alright,” Vax’ildan said. “You wanna stay in here, or you wanna wander around?”

“Am I allowed to?” Carlotta asked. “Percival told me not to disappear.”

“Ahh, it’s alright. It’s not disappearing if you’re wanderin’ around with me.”

Carlotta swung her legs for a few more moments, considering. “Alright, I suppose,” she finally said. She stood up off the bed and put her brown boots back on.

“Alright, then,” Vax’ildan said, also standing up. “Where d’you wanna go?”

Carlotta paused, and considered. “I don’t know,” she finally said. “Do you want to choose?”

“Don’t you have any opinions?” Vax’ildan asked. “Anywhere on the castle grounds, up to you.”

Carlotta considered carefully, fidgeting with the hem of her dress.

“Um,” she finally said, shrinking back, “I guess we could go to the garden? If you want. Or somewhere else, I guess. If you wanna go somewhere else, we could go there, too. I don’t mind.”

“Nah, I don’t mind goin’ to the garden,” Vax’ildan said. “Innit a little… uh, green? Out there?”

“No, the nice garden,” Carlotta corrected. “Where, um, your sister visited me that time. With Scanlan.”

“Oh, alright,” Vax’ildan said. “You’ll have to show me how to get there, though, because I don’t know my way around here.”

“Okay,” Carlotta said. She picked up Johanna off the bed- but the name was wrong, now, since Pike had done her magic.

Vax’ildan walked out of the room, holding the door for Carlotta.

Carlotta walked out of the room as well, and began guiding Vax’ildan through the hallways. They passed several people as they walked through the hallways, several who gave her dirty looks while at the same time admiring Vax’ildan. They didn’t pass any of Percival’s friends, however.

Finally, Carlotta popped open the small wooden door that was to the side of the dining rooms and next to a decorative bookcase, and they were in the nice garden.

Vax’ildan whistled low. “This _is_ nice, innit,” he said.

“Yes,” Carlotta said. “It’s my favorite place.”

“I can see why,” Vax’ildan agreed. “‘S a lot nicer here than in the other parts of the gardens.”

“Yes, the other gardens are polluted,” Carlotta said. “But this one is nice. It’s full of flowers.” She carefully settled herself on the bench, with Johanna sitting on her lap.

Vax’ildan wrinkled his brow. “Aren’t you… going to play?”

“That’s not allowed,” Carlotta said, refusing to say _obviously_.

“Why not?” Vax’ildan asked. “C’mon, you’re a kid. Kids play.”

“I’m _fourteen_ ,” Carlotta said. “I’m not a kid.”

“Oh, c’mon. Look at me, I’m twenty-four, I’m still a kid,” Vax’ildan teased.

“You are _not_. You’re a grown-up, not a kid,” Carlotta said.

“Well, maybe I’m not a kid,” Vax’ildan said, hopping up on one of the small fences surrounding the flowerbed and walking around. “But I can still play. And if I’m so old, and I can still play, then you _definitely_ can.”

“Maybe I _can_ , but I’m not _allowed_ ,” Carlotta explained. “There’s a difference.”

“Oh, who says you’re not allowed?” Vax’ildan asked, jumping off the fence. “You’re plenty allowed, when I’m the one watching you. Same for if it’s Vex or Keyleth or Percy or Grog or Scanlan or Pike. You can play as much as you like.”

“Hmph,” Carlotta said. She began swinging her feet back and forth, considering. Walking on the fence like Vax’ildan was was definitely not allowed. That could hurt the fence, or the flowers. And climbing trees was definitely-definitely not allowed, because Carlotta could get hurt doing that. And running through the dirt- running through the dirt might be allowed, if she didn’t get too dirty. Her shoes would be fine, but if the mud stained her dress, that was definitely not allowed. She could run around in the dirt a little, if she really really wanted to.

Carlotta’s thoughts were interrupted by Vax’ildan suddenly falling off the fence, clutching his head. Carlotta shot up off the bench, about to run to him, but Vax’ildan held up one hand.

He put his other hand up to his ear and began muttering quietly into it. This continued for a few more minutes, Vax’ildan pausing every so often, until, finally, Vax’ildan pushed himself up off the ground and brushed himself off.

“Sorry to disappoint you, kiddo,” he said, “but your brother wants you back in your room. He got scared when he went back and saw that you weren’t there.”

“So it _was_ disappearing,” she accused. “ _And_ you said you would let him know if I woke up, and you _didn’t_.”

“Yeah, of course you were awake for that,” Vax’ildan said. “And, the most unfortunate part of that is that you’re entirely right. Get all your things, he wants you back in your room.”

Carlotta sighed, and gathered up Johanna. “Okay, let’s go.”

Vax’ildan opened the castle door for her, and then Carlotta guided him back to her room.

Waiting inside was Percival, whose arms were crossed. He looked absolutely furious. Carlotta shrank back, seeing the look on his face.

“Vax’ildan,” he said crossly. Then, his gaze slid to Carlotta, and his expression softened. “Oh, I’m not cross with you, Cassandra, I’m sorry.” He smoothed down Carlotta’s hair on either side of her head and kissed her forehead. “Could you wait in here for a moment? I need to speak with Vax’ildan alone.”

Carlotta nodded, still not entirely sure of Percival’s mood, and sat on the bed. Percival guided Vax’ildan out of her room and shut the door behind them. After a moment, Carlotta heard some loud shouting coming from the hallway, what sounded like Percival’s voice. There was some muttering in return, and then more shouting, and then more, calmer voices.

Finally, Carlotta’s door creaked open again, and Percival stepped in.

“I’m sorry about that, Cassandra,” he said, rubbing the back of his head. “I was only terribly worried when I came back here and saw that you were gone.”

“I didn’t _mean_ to,” Carlotta said. She shrunk in on herself just after she said that. Interrupting wasn’t allowed, but it was _important_. It wasn’t her fault that Percival hadn’t been able to find her.

“I know,” Percival said. “I’m not angry, Cassandra. I was just frightened when you weren’t here when I came back, and Vax’ildan didn’t tell me you’d woken up. That’s all.”

“Alright,” Carlotta replied, still looking at the floor.

“Okay,” Percival said awkwardly. “Um. Would you like to go back to the garden? Or to the library? Dinner won’t be for a few hours. So you have some time, if you want to do something.”

“I’m fine,” Carlotta replied. “It’s alright, I can stay here.”

Percival hesitated for a moment. “Uhm, alright. I guess- come out, if you want to. You can go to the library or the gardens, if you like. Or the main hall, I suppose. Don’t go into the bedrooms, or anything. Or leave the castle, alright?”

“Alright,” Carlotta said.

There was another pause. “Well, alright then,” Percival said. “See you in a bit, then.”

“Okay,” Carlotta said, as Percival walked out of the room, shutting the door behind him.

As soon as Percival left, Carlotta flopped back onto her bed and stared up at the ceiling. She sighed heavily. She had been looking forward to going to the garden- she wasn’t entirely certain how long it had been since she had been allowed to go outside, but it certainly felt like more than a week. She was so tired of being stuck in the castle. She began toeing off her boots without looking, and then, after several minutes without success, she finally heaved a sigh and sat up to untie her laces.

After Carlotta finally got her shoes off, she saw a brief glimpse of movement in the corner of her eye. However, when she turned to look, all she could see was Johanna, leaning up against her pillow.

Carlotta sighed at herself, and fell back on her bed. She breathed deeply, and then again, and then again.

It was a terrible thing for Carlotta to admit how bored she was. She should have gone to the library with Percival, but now it was too late, since she would be disappearing if she went without asking him.

Again, out of the corner of her eye she thought she saw movement- but, again, it was just Johanna again.

Carlotta propped herself up on her elbows and stared at Johanna suspiciously. “Johanna, I like you an awful lot, but there has been a lot of difficult things going on today, so I am not quite in the mood to be unnerved by you. I just wanted to let you know.”

Suddenly, after Carlotta warned Johanna, she heard the sound of laughter. A very familiar laughter- it was Mama’s soft, gentle laughter, whenever Papa said something sweet.

Carlotta sat bolt upright and looked around the room, searching for the source of Mama’s laughter. It seemed to be coming from all throughout the room, with no certain source.

“Mama?” Carlotta asked quietly, somewhat afraid.

“Yes, my darling Carlotta,” Mama’s voice said, again. It seemed more concentrated now, and Carlotta heard that it was coming from Johanna. “It’s me.”

Carlotta stared at Johanna. “You’re dead, though. Percival said.”

“That’s right, sweetness,” Mama said. Carlotta began to see a hazy silhouette, with Mama’s hairstyle and the taffeta dress she had been wearing the last time that Carlotta had seen her. “Percival and his very bad friends killed me. It hurt so much.”

“Mama,” Carlotta said again. She felt tears begin to fall down her face. “It’s all been so strange, Mama. Pike cast a spell on me, and it made my brain all weird, and now I’m remembering things I don’t understand-”

“Hush, now, darling,” Mama said softly. Her silhouette began moving Johanna’s arms up and down, like she was trying to entertain Carlotta. “It’s all alright, now that I’m back. I’m still settling in, but I can help you now. I won’t let them hurt you anymore, I promise.”

“I don’t understand anything, anymore,” Carlotta whispered. “I just want everything to be back to normal. I’m so _glad_ that you’re back, Mama, you make things so easy to understand.”

“I know, darling, I know. It’s alright, I can help you now.”

“I love you, Mama,” Carlotta said. “I love you so much.”

“I love you too, darling,” Mama said. “Will you let me help you with something, sweetness?”

Carlotta nodded tearfully. “Anything, Mama,” she said. “Anything.”

“Good girl,” Mama cooed. “But it’s a secret, remember. Don’t tell that terrible man, that Percival, or any of his friends. Alright?”

“Yes, Mama,” Carlotta said. “I promise.”

“Good girl,” Mama said again. “Are you ready?”

Carlotta nodded, but Mama was already casting her spell. There was a soft green light, and Carlotta drifted again, past understanding anything.

And then she was forced away from the controls of her body- she was frightened for a moment, but then there was Mama’s comforting voice. She couldn’t understand what she was saying, but it was safe and healing all the same.

Her body stood up without her, and Carlotta drifted further and further away as it continued without her.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the paragraph that starts with 'Percival wouldn't lock' involves cassandra's fear of sexual assault
> 
> the following two paragraphs involve emetophobia
> 
> the last paragraph of the story is about self-harm

Carlotta came to in the dark, narrow tunnel from when Percival’s friends had fought Mama. Her body was propped up against the cold stone wall, and Percival’s friends were also sitting against the stone walls. Pike was kneeling in front of her, holding Carlotta’s face in her hands, and Percival was to Carlotta’s right, holding onto her shoulder.

“Are you back?” Pike asked, shakily withdrawing her hands from Carlotta’s face. Behind her, Percival’s friends flexed their grips on their respective weapons. “Are you with us, Cassandra?”

“Oh, hullo, Pike,” Carlotta said. “I’m right here. How are you?”

Pike sighed heavily. “Ohhh-kay. Okay. I’m fine, sweetheart, thanks.”

“Okay,” Carlotta said. “Is everything alright?”

“It’s just fine, now,” Percival said. He gently rubbed Carlotta’s back. “Don’t worry about it. Let’s go back upstairs.”

“Hang on there, Freddy,” Vax’ildan said, shifting himself to his feet. He was supporting Vex’ahlia on his shoulder. “I think we should maybe probably have a bit of a talk about all of this, huh?”

“Can it wait?” Percival asked, still supporting Carlotta with an arm around her shoulders. “I mean-”

“Percival,” Vex’ahlia interrupted. “We have to talk about this.”

Percival glared at them both. “Are you _kidding_ me,” he hissed. “Look at Cassandra, she’s exhausted! And, and you want to- to _interrogate_ her-”

“Percy,” Pike interrupted, gently placing her hand over his. “No one is interrogating anybody. We’re just going to ask her a couple of questions, okay?”

Percival clenched his jaw, and then took a deep breath through his nose.

“Cassandra,” he said, adjusting himself so that he was kneeling next to her, “do you mind if my friends ask you a few questions, just about what you were doing?”

Carlotta silently shook her head. Her hands itched for something to play with, but Johanna was nowhere nearby, and so she ended up idly twisting her hands in her dress. Her dress, which was not her light blue cotton play dress anymore, but was now a yellow tea dress, with ruffles and a waistcoat and a pink ribbon around her waist and tied in her hair.

“Cassie, what the _fuck_ were you doing in there?” Scanlan asked. Percival whipped his head over to glare at him.

“In where?” Carlotta asked.

“Are you kidding?” Scanlan asked. “In _where_? In the fucking ziggurat, Cassandra!”

“The ziggurat?” Cassandra asked, somewhat dazed. “Oh. The pyramid?”

“Cassie,” Pike interrupted, gently taking her by the shoulder, “what’s the last thing you remember?”

“Vax’ildan and I went to the garden,” Carlotta said slowly. “And then I went back to my room, while Percival yelled at Vax’ildan.”

Vax’ildan pulled back in surprise, and Percival turned to stare at Carlotta.

“Cassandra-” Percival said, before he swallowed. “Cassandra, that was days ago.”

“Was it?” Carlotta asked. Certainly, things had been fuzzy, but things always got fuzzy when Mama made her drift. Losing a few days was okay, when she was drifting. “But that’s all I can remember, though.”

“That’s okay,” Percival said, rubbing Carlotta’s back. “Don’t worry about it, we can talk later.”

“What the _fuck_ , Percival,” Scanlan hissed, as Percival helped Carlotta to her feet.

“We can talk later,” Percival repeated.

“How many days has it been?” Carlotta asked. “Has it been long?”

“Shush,” Percival said, guiding Carlotta down the dark hall. “We- we can talk about it later. You should rest for now.”

“What did I _do_ , Percy?” Carlotta asked softly. “I didn’t mean to, I promise.”

“Shh,” Percival said, but his voice was shaking. “We don’t need to talk about that right now. You need to rest.”

“Why?” Carlotta asked. “What did I do?”

“Later,” Percival said. “We’ll talk later.”

Carlotta fell silent as Percival guided her back to her room. He let her into her room, and then shut the door behind him.

Carlotta carefully sat on her bed. She wasn’t sure what had happened, or why all of Percival’s friends hated her all of a sudden. Had she done something wrong? The last thing she could remember was Mama, or Mama’s ghost, and the drifting away. She was back now, though, back and she couldn’t remember what had happened to her.

Carlotta carefully lay back on her bed. Was it time to go to sleep? She couldn’t even remember what time it was. Mama had come for her probably right after when lunch was, right? Because Pike had tried to help Carlotta just after breakfast, and-

Carlotta blinked her eyes open. What had Pike been trying to help her with, again? Percival had taken her to the library, and she had read a book, right? But she couldn’t remember what the book was about, or how long it had been, or whether or not she had enjoyed it. And then, she couldn’t remember what Pike had been helping her with. It had been something important, and it had made her head hurt, but she didn’t know at all what it was, what it had been about.

No matter how hard Carlotta focused, she couldn’t remember what the discussion had been about, much less what, if any, progress had been made.

Groaning inwardly, Carlotta flipped over and buried her face in her pillow. She had been doing so _well_ , too. She was even fairly certain that Scanlan had liked her, and now he was so angry with her. And Pike had been so nice, and if Scanlan didn’t like her anymore, than Pike almost certainly didn’t like her anymore.

She was in so much trouble.

Carlotta shot up straight as a realization hit her- she had never been in trouble when Percival was in charge, and she had no idea how he might punish her. The chest? Or even the dungeons, maybe, if she really was in a lot of trouble. Nervously, Carlotta brought her wrist up to her mouth and began to gnaw on it.

Percival wouldn’t lock her in the trunk for the whole day, would he? Mama and Papa had never done that, but Percival was new and he might. Or would he make her kneel in the dungeon like Miss Ripley had done when she had been watching her? Or even would he take her into the library and put her hands on Papa’s desk and make her hold still, still, still while he-

Carlotta ran out of her room and down the hall to the bathroom, where she fell to her knees and vomited into a water bowl. After a moment of coughing, her hair over her face she vomited again. After taking a moment to confirm that that was all, she carefully straightened up and pushed her hair back behind her ears. There were chunks of vomit attached to several strands of hair, but there was nothing she could do about that now, with the bowl full of vomit and no change of clothes in the room so that she could just dump the bucket of water over her head.

“Cassandra?”

Carlotta turned from the bowl and saw, standing silhouetted in the doorway, Vax’ildan.

“Hello,” she said quietly. Was she in trouble for leaving her room, too? But it would have been worse if she had vomited in her room, probably, because then she would have had to clean it up and she could have gotten her blanket or her bedsheets dirty or she could have gotten vomit on the furniture or-

“You alright, kid?” Vax’ildan asked, slowly walking into the bathroom. He knelt and gently held the back of his hand up against Carlotta’s forehead. “You don’t feel warm. What’s wrong, lunch not sitting right with you?”

“It’s only after lunch?” Carlotta mumbled. She had thought that it was nighttime already, but apparently not.

Vax’ildan winced. “Don’t worry about it. Here, you wait here, I’m gonna go… figure out where this goes. I’ll bring you back some water and some clean clothes.”

Vax’ildan took the water bowl and stood, quickly leaving the room.

After he left, Carlotta sat up slowly and leaned against the wall. This was definitely when she wasn’t meant to leave, because this would be disappearing no matter who was asking.

Several minutes after Vax’ildan had left, Carlotta began counting, an old, constant kindness to keep herself calm. She barely got to two hundred before Vax’ildan came back.

“Hey,” he said, as he walked back into the bathroom. “How’re you doing, kid? Feeling better?”

“I think so,” Carlotta said. “I’m terribly sorry to have interrupted you, sir.”

“Aw, come on,” Vax’ildan said. He sat down across from Carlotta and crossed his legs. “You don’t gotta apologize for feelin’ sick, alright? ‘Sides, I wasn’t doin’ anything important. You weren’t interrupting anything.”

Carlotta remained silent, uncertain of what she was meant to say in response.

“Anyways,” Vax’ildan said, after a moment of silence, “are you feeling sick? Do you need any medicine?”

Carlotta shook her head silently. How could she explain her fear of Percival’s punishments to Vax’ildan? What if Vax’ildan punished her for that, or what if he told Percival about her fears and the Percival made her punishment worse?

“Well, alright,” Vax’ildan said. “Do you wanna hang out in your room, then? Or go somewhere else? I know Percival said you should rest, but if you don’t feel like taking a nap at one o’clock in the afternoon… “

Carlotta nodded before Vax’ildan could even finish his sentence. She was desperate for a distraction, for something that could let her forget whatever she had done in the past few days, that could let her stop thinking about Percival and Scanlan being angry with her.

“Alright, sounds good,” Vax’ildan said. “Let’s take you back to your room and let you get changed, and while you do that, I’ll let Percival know. Okay?”

“Alright,” Carlotta said. She carefully stood up after Vax’ildan did, and let him guide her back to her room. He held the door open for her, and shut it after she went in. Carlotta panicked for a moment, terrified that Vax’ildan wouldn’t open the door ever again, that Carlotta was going to die in her room. But then, almost as though Vax’ildan had sensed her worry, she heard him begin to tap against the door, _tap, taptap, tap, taptap_. She took a deep breath, and walked over to her armoire.

Carlotta carefully wiggled out of her waistcoat, then untied the pink ribbon around her waist, and then reached around the back of her shoulders to unbutton her dress and let it fall to the floor around her ankles. Finally, she untied the ribbon in her hair and tossed it aside.

Once she had stepped out of all of her clothing, Carlotta gathered it all up and placed it carefully in her hamper. Returning to her armoire, she stared at all her clothes.

Finding herself unsatisfied with all the clothing in her armoire, she knelt down and opened the drawers. Mama usually didn’t like it when Carlotta wore the clothes from the drawers, but today wasn’t a day for dresses.

She pulled out a plain brown pair of breeches and a long-sleeved white tunic, one that was much too big for her. After she pulled on her clothes, she then put on her brown ankle boots and stood back up. Taking a moment to check over herself, Carlotta lastly took a blue ribbon from her desk and tied her hair back into a ponytail.

Finally satisfied, Carlotta carefully opened her bedroom door and stepped out into the hallway.

“Hey there, kid,” Vax’ildan said. He did a double-take. “Time for a new look?”

Carlotta shrugged and began fussing with the hem of her tunic. Being actually outside of her room in a new style made her feel more uncertain.

“You do you, kiddo. Anyways, I already let Percy know that I was gonna be hanging out with you, so we don’t gotta worry about him yellin’ at us for runnin’ off.”

“Okay.”

There was another moment of silence between the two of them.

“Well, uh,” Vax’ildan said, rubbing the back of his head, “it’s kinda raining outside, so we probably shouldn’t go to the garden. Would you like to go to the library? Or explore the castle, or something?”

Carlotta shrugged again. She dropped the hem of her tunic and began to rub the ends of her sleeves with her fingers.

“Actually,” Vax’ildan said. He took Carlotta by the wrist and began guiding her down the hall towards the stairs. “Actually, actually, actually! Listen, we’re gonna go downstairs. Percy’s cleared out some room, and I’m gonna teach you a few tricks.”

He pulled Carlotta down the spiral staircase and into what used to be the sitting room. As he had said, the room was cleared of all furniture and decoration, now nothing but plain stone with uncovered glass windows facing out into Whitestone.

“Alright,” Vax’ildan said. “Do you know how to hold a dagger?”

Carlotta shrugged.

“Yeah, figured. Alright, so hold this, and show me how you think you should hold it.” He passed Carlotta a plain, silver dagger.

Carlotta’s fingers automatically took the grip of the dagger in her hand, curling her thumb and fingers towards the edge of the hilt.

“Ehh, not quite,” Vax’ildan said. “That’s how you hold it if you’re gonna throw it overhand. If you’re using it for melee, you want to-”

Carlotta adjusted her fingers, now bending them towards the blade edge.

“That’s… right,” Vax’ildan said, eyes wide. “Have you used a dagger before?”

Carlotta shrugged again. The dagger felt at home in her hand, and she tossed it up so that it spun in the air before she caught it once more, wrist bent so that the blade was hidden up her sleeve. She began to dance the bottom of the dagger’s hilt across her fingertips.

“Cassandra, I’d wager that you’ve got quite a bit of skill with knives,” Vax’ildan said. “It’s pretty impressive that you’ve figured out how to hide blades up your sleeves. I couldn’t do that for more than a second when I was your age.”

Carlotta shrugged again, and let the dagger fall so that she caught it by the blade.

“So, how’re you doing that? Do you remember tricks, or does it just feel right?”

“Just feels like it’s what I’m supposed to do,” Carlotta said quietly. She could feel her muscles itching to throw the dagger and slash across the air with it, but that was probably not a very good idea- besides the suspicions that Vax’ildan was probably harboring about her, it wasn’t how little girls were meant to act.

“Can you show me something else?” Vax’ildan asked. “Try not to think about it too much. Just let your body decide for you.”

Before she let her body decide for her, Carlotta carefully considered her options. Slashing the air wouldn’t mean much, since there wasn’t anyone there, and throwing the blade at the wall would probably hurt it, and then Vax’ildan would be mad at her.

“Just follow your body,” Vax’ildan said softly.

Carlotta took a deep breath and nodded. Trying very hard to turn off her brain, she flipped the dagger so that she was holding it by the hilt, rather than the blade, and let her body decide.

Her unarmed hand rose into the air enough that the sleeve of her tunic fell backwards towards her elbow, and quick as a flash, she brought up the dagger and slashed violently into the top of her wrist.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> no warnings today. just some happy stuff for cass after all the things i've put her through.

Vax’ildan stared at Carlotta’s wrist, eyes wide, for a moment.

“Oh, fuck,” he said, sounding like he was trying very hard not to scream. “Oh, fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck.” He dropped his pack to the floor and began digging through it, finally resurfacing with a roll of bandages, which he hastily wrapped around Carlotta’s wound before finishing his first aid by tying a knot in the bandages.

“Sorry,” Carlotta said, after it sounded like Vax’ildan had finished hyperventilating.

“Oh, man,” Vax’ildan said. He embraced Carlotta tightly, and then released her. “Okay. Um, that one’s probably mostly on me, so let’s not fret too badly about it.”

“Okay,” Carlotta said. She went back to playing with Vax’ildan’s dagger, bouncing the hilt along her fingertips.

“Nope,” Vax’ildan said immediately. “Nope, let’s hand that over, I think that the time for playing with daggers is over.”

Carlotta passed the dagger over without complaint, and Vax’ildan sagged with relief as soon as the dagger was back in his grip. “Alright. That’s a girl.”

Carlotta stared at Vax’ildan, a bit confused. “Sorry,” she said again. “You said to let my body decide, and that’s what’s I was supposed to do.”

Vax’ildan suddenly looked unimaginably sad. “Oh, geez, Cassie.”

“What?” Carlotta said, defensively. She had done what Vax’ildan had asked her to, why was he sounding so sad for her?

“Oh, man,” Vax’ildan said, still sounding so sad. “Oh, boy.”

“ _What_?” Carlotta demanded. She folded her arms across her chest. “You _told_ me not to think about it, and then I did it and now you’re acting weird.”

Vax’ildan’s face froze in a vaguely confused, concerned, and unnerved way. “Uhm, sorry? Uh. Well, you’ve got a lot of scars on your wrists, Cassie. And usually, people have scars- when people have scars on their wrists, it’s not for a very happy reason. And I was, uh, concerned, for you.”

“It wasn’t my idea,” Carlotta said, letting her right arm fall to her side. “Mama always said that I got them because I was sick.”

“When you were sick?” Vax’ildan questioned.

Carlotta nodded. “I was very sick when I was young. That’s why my memory is so terrible.”

Vax’ildan was silent for a moment as he stared at Carlotta, open-mouthed.

Carlotta dropped her left arm to her side and began to fuss with the hem of her tunic again. “What? I was sick.”

Vax’ildan shut his jaw with a _click_. “Nothing, kid. I believe you.”

“Okay,” Carlotta said. A realization hit her. “Am I in trouble?”

Vax’ildan furrowed his brow. “Why in the world would you be in trouble? Listen, the name of the game is that if Percy finds out about this, he’s gonna kill me, and I’m not too keen on turning into a corpse.”

“Oh. Okay,” Carlotta said, relieved. “So, we can keep hanging out today?”

“Course we can, kiddo. Probably not any more swordplay, though.”

“Okay,” Carlotta said again. She continued fussing with the hems of her sleeves. “Um, like what?”

Vax’ildan shrugged. “It’s still rainin’ outside, so we probably oughta stay in the castle. D’you wanna go to the library, or explore the castle, or something?”

“I dunno,” Carlotta said. “Are we allowed to go to the library?”

“Course we are,” Vax’ildan said. “Remember? I’m your chaperone. We can go anywhere we like.”

“Okay,” Carlotta said. “Um, I don’t wanna go to the library, actually.”

“Well, that’s alright,” Vax’ildan said. “Do you want me to choose where we go?”

Carlotta nodded, almost before Vax’ildan had finished his sentence, and he laughed.

“Alrighty, then. How about… how about… well, what about if we just explored the castle? Percy hasn’t gotten most of the castle cleaned out yet, so if we go through the top floor while we’re exploring, we can get rid of all the nasty shiiiii- _stuff_ , as well?”

“Okay,” Carlotta said. “That sounds like fun.”

“Race ya to the top,” Vax’ildan said, and he was immediately gone from the room.

Carlotta whipped her head around, but he was nowhere nearby.

After a brief moment of contemplation, Carlotta sprinted out of the room and up the staircase.

By the time that Carlotta got to the top of the staircase, vision spotty and gasping for breath, she saw Vax’ildan standing there, waiting for her.

“Took ya long enough, kiddo,” he said, sounding smug.

Carlotta took a long, heavy breath, and then glared at Vax’ildan.

“So, which room should we do first?” Vax’ildan asked, walking down the hallway. “Most of these are pretty boring. Just old dusty rooms. This one’s got some cauldrons?”

“You talk a lot,” Carlotta said, trailing after Vax’ildan. “I think Miss Ripley used this room for when she did projects here. The cauldrons used to have her potions.”

“Yeah, I know I talk a lot. Hot tip for you, it’s how most people make friends. What kind of potions did Miss Ripley make?”

“I dunno,” Carlotta said. “She used to make me try them. Usually they burned. One time, it made me faint.”

“‘Nother hot tip, kiddo, don’t drink potions if you don’t know what they do,” Vax’ildan said, halfway into one of Miss Ripley’s cauldrons.

“Do you even know what used to be in that cauldron?” Carlotta asked.

Vax’ildan toppled back out of the cauldron and looked at Carlotta with green-dusted hair and clothes. “Not really. Why, is it toxic?”

“No, I don’t think so,” Carlotta said, barely suppressing her giggles. 

“Well then, I’m fine,” Vax’ildan said, clapping his hands together so that a small cloud of green dust went into the air. “We should probably do somethin’ with these cauldrons, huh?”

“Like what?” Carlotta asked.

“I dunno. Stack them up?”

Carlotta squinted at Vax’ildan. “If we stack them up, won’t they be harder to remove?”

“Well fine, then, smarty-pants, let’s leave the cauldrons to rot and go explore somewhere else!”

At that, Vax’ildan marched out of the room, nose pointing directly at the ceiling, and Carlotta followed after, giggling.

The next room was stacked up with bunches and bunches of wooden crates.

“And what d’you reckon these’re for, huh?” Vax’ildan asked, halfway climbing into one of the crates.

“Probably more of Miss Ripley’s things, I think,” Carlotta said. “She kept most of her things up here. I think because she said it would be harder for people to interfere with her work if it was all up here.”

“Well, the jokes well on her now, isn’t it?” Vax’ildan said, wriggling out of the crate. “So, I s’pose I’m sayin’ we oughta keep fu-” He glanced at Carlotta. “- _messing_ with her crap.”

“Okay,” Carlotta said. “I never really liked Miss Ripley. But don’t tell her that, okay?”

“Oh, don’t worry about me telling her anything. I don’t like Miss Ripley.”

“Oh, none of us like Miss Ripley.”

When Carlotta turned around, she saw Vex’ahlia in the doorway, leaning against the frame. “How’re you two doing, hm? And Vax’ildan, how’re you doing corrupting the youth?”

“We’re fine,” Vax’ildan said. “And I’m doing very well corrupting the youth, thank you.”

“Hello, Vex’ahlia,” Carlotta said. “Don’t worry, Vax’ildan isn’t corrupting me. We’re just exploring.”

“Darling, my brother is always corrupting the youth, no matter what he’s doing. Vax’ildan could corrupt the youth giving a sermon about Sarenrae,” Vex’ahlia said, sauntering into the room. “Vax’ildan, _why_ are you green?”

Vax’ildan shrugged, hands raised palms up. “Perhaps a divine blessing, from our eternal flame?”

Vex’ahlia raised an eyebrow and looked over to Carlotta.

“He climbed into a cauldron, even though I _said_ that there could be toxic stuff in it, and when he came out he was all green,” Carlotta tattled.

“Yeah, figures,” Vex’ahlia said. She smiled and winked at Carlotta.

“Why do I feel so judged here in this room today?” Vax’ildan asked. “Why is everyone ganging up on me?”

“Well, you did climb fully into a cauldron, brother,” Vex’ahlia said. “And I’m pretty sure I saw you climbing into a crate before I announced myself, and I’ve known you for your whole life, so I’m pretty comfortable with judging you.”

Vax’ildan rolled his eyes. “You’re a terrible sister,” he announced, mussing Vex’ahlia’s hair as he walked out of the room. “C’mon, Cassie-Ann, let’s find us a _cool_ room, for _cool_ people.”

“I think you’re sister is pretty cool,” Carlotta said, as she followed Vax’ildan out of the room, with Vex’ahlia close behind them both.

“See?” Vex’ahlia said. “Cass thinks I’m cool. And I think that she’s cool. And we both think that you’re a big huge loser.”

“No, I think Vax’ildan is cool, too,” Carlotta said, as Vax’ildan guided them into a new room, with several large piles of papers scattered around the room, some six inches deep.

Vax’ildan turned and stared at Vex’ahlia, stretching his arms out so that he was in a T-shape. “Looks like Cassie thinks I’m cool, sister. What now?”

“Well, I _suppose_ that this makes a stalemate, brother,” Vex’ahlia said. “But that doesn’t mean I’m happy about it.”

“Sorry,” Carlotta said.

“Oh, no, darling, don’t worry about it. It’s just that Vax’ildan is so much less cool as I am, and a stalemate is always an unfortunate ending.”

Vax’ildan threw a paper airship at Vex’ahlia, but it curved heavily to the right and crashed into the stone floor.

“That was really bad, brother,” Vex’ahlia said. She snatched her own piece of paper out of a pile, folded it into a paper airship, and then threw it out into the hallway.

It stayed straight out of the doorway, and then curved almost impossibly into the hallway. When Carlotta stepped out to watch it, she saw it travel all the way down to the staircase and turn again.

“How’d you do that?” She asked, eyes wide as she stepped back into the room. “That was a lot cooler than Vax’ildan’s!”

Vex’ahlia stuck her tongue out at Vax’ildan. “ _Told_ you, brother. And it’s a simple trick, Cass. You just-”

She grabbed another piece of paper, folded it the exact same way she just had, and threw it again. It didn’t go quite as far as the first one had, but still much farther than Vax’ildan’s.

“I don’t get it,” Carlotta said.

“Vex’ahlia’s never been able to explain that trick, kiddo. She’s just always had it.”

“You’re just jealous ‘cause you don’t,” Vex’ahlia said, folding another paper airship.

“Land sakes alive. C’mon, Cassie, let’s get outta here before Vex’ahlia builds Whitestone its own airship port.”

Carlotta followed after him, glancing behind her to make sure that Vex’ahlia was behind them.

The next room they entered was filled with dried plants and herbs, hanging from the ceiling and lying on the desk.

“Hey, these are all, like, _super_ poisonous,” Vex’ahlia said cheerily, brushing away a sprig that was just in contact with the top of her head. “Nobody eat these. Or breathe too hard in here.”

Carlotta immediately began holding her breath.

“Man, this place gives me the creeps,” Vax’ildan commented. “Cassie, you said this was all Ripley’s shiiiiii… stuff?”

Carlotta nodded silently. Her lungs were beginning to ache.

“What in the world was that creep doing with all this crap?” Vex’ahlia asked, grabbing a purple sprig that was hanging from the ceiling. “If this gets behind your ears, you die.”

“ _Why_ do you know this?” Vax’ildan asked, throwing his hands in the air. “Cassie, why does my sister do this?”

Carlotta shrugged, and then dashed out into the hallway to take a deep breath, before walking back into the room.

“What in the world was that for?” Vex’ahlia asked. “Are you feeling alright, Cass?”

Carlotta nodded, still holding her breath.

“... Let’s try the hall one more time, huh?” Vax’ildan said. He gently took Carlotta’s elbow and guided her into the hallway, where she took another breath.

“What’s up, Cass?” Vex’ahlia asked gently.

“You said not to breathe too heavily in there,” Carlotta explained. “And I wasn’t sure how heavy that is. So I stopped breathing.”

Vex’ahlia and Vax’ildan stared at Carlotta, eyes wide.

“Oh, boy,” Vex’ahlia finally said. “Well, darling, next time I tell you that, just breathe softly, alright? Like you’re trying to fall asleep.”

“But for now, let’s leave the super poison room alone, huh?” Vax’ildan said. “C’mon, there’s lots more rooms up here to explore.”

“Okay,” Carlotta said, letting Vax’ildan guide her and Vex’ahlia farther down the hall.

This time, Vax’ildan skipped several rooms, before her finally came to the turn of the hallway and selected a room to their right, on the outer part of the castle.

“Alright, kids, who’s ready to see what’s behind door number four?” Vax’ildan asked.

“Just open the door, brother,” Vex’ahlia said, acting annoyed.

“Alright, alright. I tried to make a joke, sue me.” Vax’ildan wiggled the doorknob.

Then he frowned, and wiggled it again.

“That’s odd,” he said. “The door won’t open.”

“Brother, I don’t mean to alarm you, but could it be… locked?”

“Myeh, meh meh myeh meh myeh,” Vax’ildan said in a high, nasally voice, with his face scrunched up. He knelt down in front of the door and pulled out a packet of tools, which he carefully inserted into the keyhole. After several minutes of wiggling the tools in the keyhole, he finally appeared satisfied.

“Now, who’s ready to see what’s behind door number four?” Vax’ildan said, resuming his pose.

“Actually, I think it’s door number five,” Carlotta said.

“Oh, Cassie, you’ve turned on me too?” Vax’ildan dramatically clutched his chest. “Fine, then I’ll just open this door with no jokes or drama or funny business whatsoever.”

“Thanks, brother,” Vex’ahlia said, straight-faced. “Please, do go ahead.”

Vax’ildan rolled his eyes and turned back to open the door. He threw it open and strode in.

The room’s floor was covered with rugs, most covered with blood and all dusty and filthy from disuse. The bed was a canopy bed, neatly made except for the poster that had collapsed into the center. The bed was also coated with dust. The nightstands on either side were also coated in dust, and the armoire, and the desk, and even the piles of stuffed animals- the animals neatly arranged in one grand mountain, except for their insides were ripped out of their stomachs and they were covered in blood.

The room was incredibly well lit, with six windows allowing light to stream in.

While Vex’ahlia and Vax’ildan had both frozen just inside the doorway, Carlotta had continued on, moving through the room like she knew what she was doing. When she opened the door to the armoire, she saw piles and piles of clothes- too small for her, now, but they had once been so comfortable and so perfect, and not a scrap of yellow in the bunch.

When Carlotta flipped through them, she saw that they were all stained with red paint on the chest and at the center of the hips. Ruined, so that they couldn’t ever be used as clothes again.

“Hey, Cassie, we better go,” Vax’ildan said. “This is… I don’t think this is a good place for us. We should go back downstairs.”

“Yeah. Let’s get out of here, alright?” Vex’ahlia agreed.

Carlotta turned and looked at them, her back to the windows.

“Why?” She asked. “This is my room.”


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> when you read "Mama purred" you can skip to the next paragraph to ignore the mentions of child sexual assault.
> 
> the end deals with some confusing time things, but it is entirely relevant to the plot, so maybe don't skip those bits.

There was a moment of awkward silence.

“Oh… was it?” Vex’ahlia said weakly.

“That’s… nice,” Vax’ildan said.

“It is, isn’t it?” Carlotta asked. She gently kicked her old bed. “Not anymore, though. Someone ruined it.”

“Sure did,” Vex’ahlia agreed. “Oh no, Percival is calling us over the earring. We had all better go and see what he wants.”

“Yes, he sure is doing that,” Vax’ildan said. “C’mon, Cassie girl, let’s head back to your room.”

“This _is_ my room,” Carlotta said. She stepped farther into the room. There was something tickling in the back of her mind, tickling and reaching out for her to remember something, like a word she couldn’t quite remember. She traced her finger along the wooden nightstand, and it came away clean.

“Yeah, but we gotta go check in with Percival, right?” Vax’ildan asked. “We probably oughta let him know that we found your room.”

“I suppose,” Carlotta said reluctantly. She let her hand linger on the nightstand for another moment, before she finally turned away to face Vax’ildan and Vex’ahlia.

Standing behind the twins was Mama, her body semi-translucent, staring and glaring at Carlotta.

Vex’ahlia turned around first and walked straight through Mama. She didn’t seem to notice her. Vax’ildan followed behind his sister, and he also ignored Mama.

“Come along,” Mama and Vex’ahlia said at the same time.

“Cassandra,” Vex’ahlia finished.

“Carlotta, my darling,” Mama disagreed.

“Okay,” Carlotta said. She followed behind the twins, while Mama walked alongside her.

“You left me behind, Carlotta,” Mama whispered into Carlotta’s ear. “You left your poor Mama behind, after you let your Mama die. How could you do that, Carlotta? You ought to be ashamed of yourself.”

“I’m sorry,” Carlotta mumbled, near-silently. “I’m sorry, Mama, I’m sorry.”

“Cassandra?” Vex’ahlia asked, looking over her shoulder. “Are you alright?”

“Yes,” Carlotta said, as Mama held up a finger to her mouth. “I’m fine.”

“Alright. You’re just a bit quiet all of a sudden, darling.” She waved Carlotta forward and put her arm around Carlotta’s shoulder. “Listen, you aren’t in trouble, alright? Sometimes, there’s just a bit too much going on, right? And it’s time to do something else.”

“Oh,” Carlotta said. “Okay.”

“You will be punished for this, Carlotta,” Mama whispered into Carlotta’s ear. “She’s lying to you now so that it’ll hurt worse when they hurt you, you terrible girl.”

“Alright. So we’ll stop in at your room- you probably want to get changed, huh? The rain’s cleared up, now, so we could walk around outside for a bit. After that, we could get some kind of dinner. I dunno, do you think there are cafés open again yet?”

“What about Percival?” Carlotta asked. “Didn’t you say that he wanted to talk with me?”

“... Yes,” Vex’ahlia said. “Yes, I definitely did say that, and Percival also did say. That. That he wanted to speak with you.”

Vax’ildan began mumbling in front of them.

“All lies, Carlotta,” Mama said. “All lies, every word out of their filthy killing mouths, lies.”

“So anyways, Percival will be waiting to chat with us at your room,” Vex’ahlia continued breezily. “But don’t worry, darling, you have nothing to worry about.”

“Okay,” Carlotta said, as she continued walking with the twins. They descended the staircase, and then, at the bottom of the stairs, Carlotta saw Vex’ahlia’s paper airship.

“Well, look at that,” Vax’ildan commented. “I think you’ve broken your last record, sister.”

Vex’ahlia bent and grabbed her paper airship. “No, brother, you’re forgetting the one that I got to do spirals in Father’s ballroom. That one was much better.”

Vax’ildan turned on his heel to catch Carlotta’s eye and roll his eyes. “Sister, you are so full of yourself. It’s not as though the rest of us can do your fancy paper airships tricks.”

“Brother, you can’t do _half_ of _any_ of my tricks.”

Vex’ahlia and Vax’ildan continued their banter down the hallway, Vax’ildan continuing to walk backwards. Carlotta tuned the two out as Mama continued to whisper in her ear about traitors and murderers and bad little girls who were going to be punished.

“Oh, Cassandra,” Carlotta heard distantly. As she came back into the world, she saw Percival standing in front of her bedroom-not-bedroom door. “How are you? Do you feel better?”

“H’lo, Percival,” Carlotta said. “I’m fine, thank you. I found my old bedroom with Vax’ildan and Vex’ahlia.”

“Oh, how lovely,” Percival said. He didn’t seem as apprehensive as Vex’ahlia or Vax’ildan had. “Would you like to move back in there, instead of staying where you are?”

“Ey, Percy, you might wanna have Pike take a look at the room ‘fore you let Cassie pop in,” Vax’ildan interjected. “Just, ah, just in case.”

Percival and Vax’ildan made eye contact, and Percival nodded. “Alright,” he agreed. “Anyways, Cassandra, I just wanted to make certain you were alright. Vax’ildan told me you were ill.”

Carlotta looked down at the floor, with Mama whispering in her ear about punishment and mean men and terrible people. “‘M sorry,” she said, tightening her shoulders. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to.”

“It’s alright, Cassandra,” Percival said, sounding somewhat confused. “You aren’t in trouble. You’re just fine.”

Carlotta continued looking down out of the corner of her eye. “Okay,” she said. “Well, I’m fine.”

Percival sighed. “Well, alright then,” he said.

“Percival, we were just taking Cassandra back here so that she could get changed real quick, and then we were going to take her out for a walk around Whitestone,” Vex’ahlia explained. “Would you like to join us?”

“Sure, why not,” Percival said. “As long is Cassandra is up to it?”

“Okay,” Carlotta agreed, after Vex’ahlia and Vax’ildan both turned to stare at her.

Vex’ahlia, Vax’ildan, and Percival continued staring at her, until Carlotta finally walked into her room and shut it behind her.

“You’ve betrayed your Mama, Carlotta,” Mama said, finally using her full voice. She sat down on Carlotta’s bed and waved her to sit beside her. Carlotta walked over and sat down.

“You know that that Vax’ildan boy is bad,” Mama said, as she carded her fingers through Carlotta’s hair. It didn’t feel like fingers, more like many tny, icy cold winds blowing on her scalp. “He’s a terrible boy for hurting you.”

“It wasn’t him, Mama,” Carlotta explained quietly. “It was me. It was all me. He didn’t cut me.”

“But he gave you the knife, my sweet,” Mama said. “Papa and I would never let you get hurt like that. Your Papa and I are more trustworthy than Percival and his friends.”

“Yes, Mama,” Carlotta agreed quietly.

“Good girl,” Mama whispered. She gently stroked Carlotta’s arm, and it still felt like icy wind. “Now hold still a moment for Mama.”

Carlotta held still, and after a single moment of blurred eyes and a blurred mind, Carlotta was back to sitting on the bed with Mama.

“Good girl,” Mama purred. “ _Such_ a good girl. Mama wants to give you some quiet time as a gift.”

“No, Mama,” Carlotta murmured.

The icy wind twisted close around Carlotta’s neck, feeling like a noose.

“What’s that, my sweet?” Mama asked, angry, cruel.

“Th- they’re waiting, Mama,” Carlotta hurried to explain. “Percival and Vex’ahlia and Vax’ildan. There’s- there’s not time.”

The noose loosened half an inch, and then was erased.

“That’s right, isn’t it,” Mama mused. “You’re such a smart girl, Carlotta. My smart little girl.”

“Thank you, Mama.”

“Let’s choose your new clothes,” Mama said. She stood and walked over to Carlotta’s armoire. She waved her arm, and the doors of the armoire opened silently. Carlotta watched.

“This one,” Mama said, pointing. Carlotta stood to see what dress Mama was pointing at, and saw that it was a short-sleeved yellow cotton dress with a white satin sash around the waist. “And then you can wear white knee socks with some black shoes, and make your hair look presentable for once.”

“Yes, Mama,” Carlotta said. She stripped out of her leggings and her tunic, undid the ponytail in her hair, and stripped off her socks and shoes, before she changed into the yellow dress and her white socks and black shoes, before she finally tied her hair out of her face with Mama’s favorite yellow hair ribbon.

“Good girl,” Mama cooed. She rubbed Carlotta’s shoulder again. “Mama won’t be able to go with you, though. You’ll have to go on your own.”

“Okay, Mama,” Carlotta said.

“Good girl,” Mama said again. She kissed Carlotta’s forehead with icy cold lips. “I’ll see you soon, alright?”

“Alright, Mama,” Carlotta said. “Good-bye.”

“Good-bye, Carlotta,” Mama said, before she faded into invisibility.

Carlotta opened the door to her room and stepped out into the hallway, where Percival, Vax’ildan, and Vex’ahlia had all been having some sort of conversation- which abruptly fell silent at Carlotta’s entrance.

“Hey there, kiddo,” Vax’ildan greeted. “You ready to go?”

Carlotta nodded silently.

“Hang on, Vax,” Percival said, brow furrowed. “Cassandra, what happened to your wrist?”

Carlotta looked down at her wrist, which was wrapped in bandages up to her elbow.

“I don’t know,” she said, after a moment of consideration. She began unwrapping the bandages, and revealed a fresh wound in the middle of her forearm, only barely scabbed over.

“It’s a cut,” Carlotta said, after a few seconds of silence.

“Yes, we can see that, darling,” Vex’ahlia said. “But- but where did it come from?”

Carlotta shrugged. “I don’t know.” She thought for a moment. “Maybe I’m getting sick again.”

Percival, Vex’ahlia, and Vax’ildan all stared at Carlotta, concerned. Vax’ildan stepped forward and put his hand on Carlotta’s shoulder. “Cassie, I know that I said that it was a secret, but you can tell Percy what happened.”

Carlotta blinked and furrowed her brow. “What do you mean?”

Vax’ildan blinked and stared at Carlotta. “Cassie… this morning? WIth the daggers?”

“What daggers?” Carlotta asked. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Vax’ildan’s eyes widened, and he took a step away from Carlotta. “Hey, sister, Percy, let’s go talk around the corner for a little bit, alright?” He looked back at Carlotta. “We’ll be right back, kiddo, alright?”

“Alright,” Carlotta agreed. She watched Percival, Vax’ildan, and Vex’ahlia walk around the corner, and then she leaned against the wall.

After a few moments of twiddling her thumbs, Carlotta heard the sound of a fist smacking against flesh, and then the smack of a slap. She leaned forward and looked, but there didn’t seem to be a fight happening, so she leaned back against the wall. After another few moments, the three grown-ups walked back around the corner, Vax’ildan with a handprint on his cheek and a bloody nose.

“Alright, darling, we’ve decided not to go out,” Vex’ahlia explained. “We’re going to check in with Pike instead, alright?”

“Okay,” Carlotta said. She stared curiously at Vax’ildan. “What happened?”

“I deserved it,” Vax’ildan said, waving his hand to dismiss the injuries.

“He did,” Vex’ahlia chimed in. “Don’t worry, we’ll explain it after we visit Pike.”

“Okay,” Carlotta said. She turned to look at Percival, and instead saw Pike.

“How do you feel?” Pike asked softly. “That should have helped some.”

“Hello, Pike,” Carlotta said. “I feel fine. Did we already stop in to see you?”

Pike blinked in confusion. “You- yeah, o- of course- Cassie, do you not remember what just happened?”

“I was talking with Percival, Vex’ahlia, and Vax’ildan,” Carlotta said. “We were in the hallway, and they wanted to stop in and see you.”

Pike blinked and furrowed her brow. “It’s been- you’ve missed a bit, Cassie. Just wait right here, and I’ll- I’ll be right back to see you, alright?”

“Alright,” Carlotta said.. She looked around Pike’s room, and instead saw the inside of a small hut.

“Cassandra de Rolo,” an old man mused. “That should have straightened things out. You really can’t trust those younger clerics.”

“Hello, sir,” Carlotta said politely. “How are you?”

The old man looked at Carlotta, one eyebrow raised. “You don’t remember what just happened?”

“I was with Percival’s friend, Pike,” she said. “Only for a moment, though. Before that, I was talking with Percival, Vex’ahlia, and Vax’ildan.”

“Hmm,” the old man said. “It’s been several days since these problems started for you. You’re telling me you don’t remember anything between now and then?”

“No,” Carlotta said.

“Hm,” the old man said. He began scribbling on a pad of paper. “Very interesting.”

After a few moments of watching the man scribble on his pad, Carlotta blinked, and was now staring at a halfling woman covered in silver armor.

“Hello,” Carlotta said, as the halfling woman was about to open her mouth. “I’m sorry, I don’t know your name, and I don’t remember what happened between now and the last thing I remember, which is talking to an old man in a hut.”

The halfling woman shut her mouth with a click. “Okay,” she said. “My name is Kima, and it’s been about a week and a half since you met with the old man, whose name is Keeper Yennen. This didn’t work, and if Percival’s math is right, then the next time you can remember will be me, Pike, and Yennen all working together. Alright?”

“Alright,” Carlotta said, and between her pronunciation of the _t_ and her shutting her mouth, there was a sudden, sharp blur, and Carlotta was staring at Pike, Kima, and Keeper Yennen.

“You ready, Cassandra?” Kima asked.

“Ready for what?” Carlotta asked.

“We’re gonna help you,” Pike said, as Keeper Yennen opened his mouth. “Don’t worry, alright?”

“Alright,” Carlotta said.

“Okay,” Pike said. She reached her hand towards Carlotta, and then Kima and Keeper Yennen reached in as well.

There was a bright golden glow that surrounded Carlotta, blinding her for a moment, and then she vanished.

She reappeared in her bedroom, wearing a fancy blue gown, and holding a dagger and a notebook in her hands.

She knelt down on the bedroom floor, and put the dagger into the bottom drawer of her desk, and then the notebook in the drawer above it.

She stood, and exited her room.

“Oh, Cassandra! I was just coming to get you.”

“I was already coming,” Cassandra complained. “You don’t have to baby me. I’m _excited_ about meeting the Briarwoods.”

Mother patted her on the head. “Alright, alright. Do you know where your brother is?”

Cassandra glared and folded her arms. “Mother, I have three brothers. Please be more specific.”

Mother sighed fondly. “Percival, dear. Where’s Percival.”

“I don’t _know_. Probably in his stupid lab.”

Mother pinched Cassandra’s cheek. “Don’t be mean to your brother, sweetheart. You know that he’s working very hard.”

Cassandra rolled her eyes. “I’m going to go practice my piano.”

Mother chuckled. “Alright, darling. I’m going to go fetch your brother.” She patted Cassandra on the head as she walked past.

Cassandra watched her mother walk for a few moments, and then turned away towards the piano room.

After a few steps, she stopped and looked at her reflection in one of the mirrors in the hallway.

There was something wrong- something off- but she couldn’t quite put her finger on what.

Cassandra continued walking down the hall, ready to practice her recital for the Briarwoods.


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 3 weeks without an update but hey im passing english and chemistry again
> 
> general warning for body horror and murder at the end of this one.

In the piano room, Cassandra practiced first a few scales, then Etude for Whitestone, and then Parley in the Feywild. Parley in the Feywild was her favorite by a wide margin- it was more free, more flighty, more wild than scales or Etudes for Whitestone. It was a feeling that matched her heart and her hopes, and she had been learning it as long as she had been able to sit up on the piano bench.

Even with how long she had been studying Parley in the Feywild, her fingers still stumbled and stuttered over the keys, a B-flat where it should have been a C-natural, a G-natural when it should have been an A-flat. The rhythms paused and stalled as Cassandra tried to remember the order of the triplets and the pedals, and the third note of the melody went on as she tried to decipher the pile of sixteenth and thirty-second notes.

After trying to get through Parley in the Feywild six times, never with fewer mistakes than Cassandra could count on her fingers, she threw her sheet music aside in a huff and began rifling through her folder.

“I thought that last one sounded quite nice, actually,” Vesper said. Cassandra whirled around on the piano bench and saw her older sister leaning on the doorway, arms crossed over her chest, and watching Cassandra with a smirk.

“It did not. I got the melody all wrong in measure seventy-eight.”

Vesper sighed fondly as she strutted into the room. “Cassandra, darling, what you’ve got to remember is that no one else will know you’ve made a mistake as long as you pretend that you haven’t made a mistake at all.”

“Yes they _will_ , Vesper, because _some_ people know what good music is meant to sound like!”

Vesper laughed, the sound a bit odd. When Cassandra looked over at her, to see if Vesper had a cough or a sore throat or something similar, and, somehow- Vesper’s face _twisted _. In a flash, Vesper’s face, instead of being her usual warm, ruddy skin, was pale and drawn tight against her skull, her mouth open as if desperate to breathe, and staring down at Cassandra. Within half a moment, Vesper was back to normal, face flushed and grinning.__

__“Not necessarily, darling,” Vesper said, continuing the conversation. “You’re fairly phenomenal at the piano, and at bluffing.”_ _

__“I _know_ I’m good at bluffing,” Cassandra said, the words slipping out of her mouth without her knowing that she was saying them. “But I’m not good enough at playing the piano to bluff through this!”_ _

__Vesper laughed again, and her face twisted again, this time slightly faded, voice muted, eyes blacked out._ _

__“You don’t even have to play anything,” Cassandra’s voice said, again, without her having anything to do with it again. “You’re cheating by only needing to talk about plants. That’s easy.”_ _

__Vesper laughed again, her laugh more distant and her face more wrong again. “We’ve both got some more practice to do yet, but I’ll see you later, dear.” She walked away out of the piano room, Cassandra’s voice following her with a “good-bye” that Cassandra didn’t remember saying._ _

__Cassandra continued practicing her piece. No one else interrupted her, but every time she played it, it sounded exactly the same, exactly as wrong and right in equal measures, just as it sounded when she was playing it before Vesper interrupted her._ _

__Within a flash, Cassandra was done practicing and was wandering the halls again, killing time before she had to be in the dining room for the dinner with the Briarwoods. Even though they were staying in the castle for the week, there was still something about the couple that excited Cassandra. The allure of somewhere as exotic as Wildemount just couldn’t leave her be, especially not when there were _two_ people from Wildemount there, and _especially_ not when the people from Wildemount were so excited with Cassandra specifically. Lord and Lady Briarwood were _enchanted_ with Cassandra- a word that Lady Briarwood herself used, not Cassandra._ _

__And Lord Briarwood thought she was even prettier than Whitney, who was supposed to be the prettiest out of all of them. And he even thought that she was smarter than _Percival_ , which Cassandra knew was only flattery, but she really didn’t mind being flattered at all, since she didn’t get to get flattered except for when people talked about how young she was, and how _cute_ she was supposed to be, which Cassandra was very sick of._ _

__So the Briarwoods were as _enchanting_ to Cassandra as she apparently was to them. She showed them all the secrets of the castle, all the ones that she knew and that she knew that her family didn’t know, showing them the secret passages and the secret hiding places and everywhere she used to win at hide-and-go-seek._ _

__And the Briarwoods were very, very, _very_ impressed with all of that, too._ _

__Cassandra was _enchanted_ by the Briarwoods._ _

__And as she wandered the halls and thought about the Briarwoods, she eventually found herself in Percival’s laboratory, sitting on the counter with his chemicals and swinging her legs back and forth._ _

__“How come _you_ don’t have to do anything, Percival? Everybody else has to do a presentation or a music piece, but you just get to sit at the dinner table and play with Dr. Ripley. That’s definitely cheating.”_ _

__“What do you mean, cheating?” Percival asked, from his place at the lab bench, where he seemed to be soldering something. “Your conversations always confuse me, Cassie.”_ _

__“ _Cass-an-dra_ ,” Cassandra corrected. “I don’t call you _Percy_.”_ _

__“I don’t mind being called Percy,” Percival said. He lifted his goggles up and looked over at Cassandra through his spectacles._ _

__And again, just like with Vesper, Percival’s face twisted again, pale and thin and glaring at Cassandra, blood pouring down his face and dripping off his chin, distant and faded and discordant for a half a blink. When he spoke, his voice came out distant and warped. “Anyways, what do you mean by lucky?”_ _

__“I _mean_ that you don’t have to worry about being so stressed about doing something in front of the Briarwoods. I still can’t play Parley in the Feywild right!” Again, Cassandra’s voice fell out of her without her permission, and everything continued._ _

__“Neither can I,” Percival said. “I can’t talk about plants, or diplomacy, or play the harp, or sing, or even discuss the merits of fencing.”_ _

__“And neither can Vesper or Julius or Oliver or Whitney or Ludwig. Doesn’t mean that they don’t have to do anything! You are a _cheater_ , Percival.”_ _

__Percival snorted his weird snort-laugh. “I guess so. I am still talking to Dr. Ripley about weapons and such, you know. It’s not as though I don’t have to do anything.”_ _

__“It’s still _cheating_ ,” Cassandra declared. “I hate cheaters.”_ _

__Percival leaned against the counter on the opposite side of the lab and looked at Cassandra, bemused, with his arms crossed- although the effect was somewhat ruined by the fact that he forgot to remove his soldering mask. “Cassandra, no one is cheating. You’re just too worried about playing a piano piece for people who already think you’re amazing. In the words of our fine brother-”_ _

__“Percival,” Cassandra interrupted, “Together, we have three brothers. Please be more specific.”_ _

__Percival rolled his eyes. “In the words of our most illustrious brother Oliver, you just need to relax. No one else is too concerned about their performance.”_ _

__Cassandra rolled his eyes back at him. “Oliver doesn’t have to worry about anything. He’s with Whitney, he doesn’t have to worry about anything.”_ _

__“And neither do you,” Percival said. “Come on, Cassandra. Just relax. You can do this, and I’m busy doing something too. Unless you can be here quietly, can you leave?”_ _

__Cassandra rolled her eyes and sarcastically repeated what Percival said, before she hopped off the counter and skipped out of Percival’s lab._ _

__Again, in a flash, Cassandra was sitting at the dinner table, between Vesper and Lady Briarwood, with Lord Briarwood and the rest of her family sitting around her. Her hands were sweaty, and Ludwig was just finishing his discussion about fencing._ _

__“Very well done, Ludwig,” Father said, nodding in approval. “I’m glad that you know your subject so well. It’s very impressive.”_ _

__“Very well-articulated,” Lord Briarwood agreed. “I must say, Lord de Rolo, your children are all very intelligent.”_ _

__“And we haven’t even finished, yet,” Mother said. She turned towards Cassandra, smiling. “Are you ready, darling?”_ _

__Cassandra nodded, too nervous to speak. She rose from the dinner table- aiming for grace, but shaking just enough to clink her cup against the table. She winced at the sound, but Lady Briarwood smiled encouragingly at her, and gently patted her elbow as she walked to the piano._ _

__She sat at the piano bench silently, and, without a word, she set her fingers on the keys and began playing._ _

__Parley in the Feywild came easily for once, the notes flowing out of the piano with ease as her fingers danced across the keys. It only seemed to be half a blink before Parley in the Feywild was over, and everyone was clapping politely._ _

__“ _Very_ well done,” Lord Briarwood said, with Lady Briarwood applauding and smiling gently._ _

__“Isn’t she delightful?” Father asked. “She’s been working very hard to learn that piece. She’s been studying for months.”_ _

__“It shows,” Lady Briarwood said. As Cassandra sat down at the table, Vesper nudged her with her shoulder, as Lady Briarwood patted her on the shoulder. “Very well done, sweetness,” she said._ _

__Cassandra smiled shyly at Lady Briarwood as the conversation around her continued._ _

__“I mean it, Cassandra, dear. You’re very talented. I’m sure you’ve noticed, but myself and my husband are _very_ impressed by you.”_ _

__Cassandra smiled at the praise. “Thank you, Lady Briarwood. You’re too kind. But I’ve still got a long way to go.”_ _

__“Perhaps so, darling,” Lady Briarwood said. “But if you’ll allow my husband and I to help you, I think we could help you to go far.”_ _

__Cassandra smiled wider at Lady Briarwood. “That would be very kind of you, Lady Briarwood. I would appreciate that very much.”_ _

__Lady Briarwood smiled back at Cassandra. “I am _so_ glad to hear that, darling. Don’t worry, we’ll be able to help you very soon.”_ _

__As Cassandra smiles at Lady Briarwood and looks around at her family and Lord Briarwood and Dr. Ripley sitting at the table, she sees her family’s faces _twist_ , the same way that Vesper’s and Percival’s faces had twisted earlier, all looking like some kind of death, and then it was gone again in a blink, Cassandra’s voice again continuing without the rest of her._ _

__“That’s very kind of you, Lady Briarwood. I can’t wait.”_ _

__Lady Briarwood grinned. “I’m glad to hear that!”_ _

__And then, there was an explosion, and Lord Briarwood had a rapier through Father’s eye._ _

__“Now be a good girl, darling. It’ll all be over soon,” Lady Briarwood said._ _

__“Oh, shit,” Cassandra said._ _

__“Don’t swear, dear. It’s unladylike,” Lady Briarwood said. Everyone was running, already, except for Father with a rapier through his eyes and Mother with her neck already slit and Percival being held tight by Dr. Ripley. “Don’t worry. They’ll be gone soon.”_ _

__“Shut the fuck up,” Cassandra said, thrusting the heel of her palm back into Lady Briarwood’s chin the way that Vesper had taught her. As soon as Lady Briarwood was distracted by the blood pooling in her mouth, Cassandra rolled away and ran, sprinting into the kitchen and then into the dumbwaiter to find a place to hide._ _

__She tried to ignore the screams as she hid, her head tucked into her knees._ _

__And then they found her, after flashes and runnings of hiding, long enough that she didn’t quite know how long she’d been there._ _


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> warning for CSA in the paragraphs starting with "Lady Briarwood reached down" and ""Good girl," Lady Briarwood said, hands still"

It was a half-orc woman who found her, in the top of the dumbwaiter shaft, still pulling her other leg out so that she could climb out to the roof.

The half-orc woman dragged her by the leg to Mother’s and Father’s room, and for just half a moment, Cassandra was halfway hopeful that her parents were still alive, and that the half-orc woman was reinforcements from the city.

And then the half-orc woman dragged her through the doors, and Cassandra saw Lady Briarwood sitting in her mother’s armchair.

“Well hello there, dear,” she said, crossing one leg over her other knee. “Thank you, Jazna. You can go.”

The half-orc woman grunted in acknowledgement before she walked out of the room, slamming the door behind her.

“Well,” Lady Briarwood said, “it seems that you missed most of the party, my love.”

“Fuck you,” Cassandra said, voice still raspy from her time without water.

“Didn’t I say not to use such crass language, dear?” Lady Briarwood asked. She raised one hand to the side of her head, poised to snap. “I don’t want to hurt you, darling.”

Cassandra laughed a dry, crackling laugh. “Do your worst,” she rasped.

Lady Briarwood raised an eyebrow, then smoothed out her face and shrugged. “If you insist, darling.”

She snapped her fingers, and Cassandra’s mind went white-hot with pain for a moment as it was stabbed through with magic. Her vision vanished from her, along with her hearing and all of her sensations.

When Cassandra regained her sight and her feelings, she found herself lying facedown on the floor, her left hand twitching.

“Now, see, darling?” Lady Briarwood asked, tapping her nails against the arm of Mother’s chair. “I didn’t want to have to hurt you like that. But you were so naughty. You needed to be punished.”

Cassandra choked on her spit for a moment, coughing for several minutes before she finally regained her breath.

“Go to hell,” she said.

Lady Briarwood sighed. “I really am trying to make this a smooth transition for you, darling,” she said, raising her hand again. “But you’re not making it easy for me.”

Lady Briarwood snapped her fingers again, and again, Cassandra’s mind was wiped blank with the burning acidic magic, and when the burning faded, she was still lying on the ground, struggling to breathe.

“You see, Cassandra,” Lady Briarwood said, as though she were continuing a sentence, “we can make this very easy, or very difficult. I assure you, I do not want to make this difficult. I think that you and I- and my husband as well, of course- could wind up very successful.”

Cassandra heaved breaths in through her mouth, desperate for air that wasn’t dusty and cold.

“Well, darling?” Lady Briarwood asked, staring down at Cassandra, her eyes half-lidded. “Now, don’t let’s delay. We really would prefer it if this went easy and we didn’t have to hurt you.”

Cassandra took one long, thick breath in, and saw Lady Briarwood sitting above her, and for just a half a moment, she saw a pale, ghastly figure where Lady Briarwood had been sitting, a ghost, or a shade, or a banshee, or _something_ that wasn’t human.

“ _We_ , milady,” Cassandra’s voice said, despite her imminent terror, “would rather have everything about us destroyed in a most horrific manner than form a covenant with the likes of _you_.”

Lady Briarwood paused for a half-second, just long enough for Cassandra to settle back into her skin.

And then, Lady Briarwood laughed.

“Such _spirit_ ,” she commended. “Such _spunk_. Such _moxy_! Finally, a member of the de Rolo family that isn’t completely spineless. You even seem to have managed to alleviate some of my… arcane abilities. _Much_ more than could be said for the rest of your family.”

Cassandra stayed on the ground, heaving, breathing, just trying to get her head and heart and hands back in her body, back to being real in the world, in the terrible, terrible, world.

“Perhaps, dear sweet, we may come to a compromise yet,” Lady Briarwood mused, rolling her fingers up and down the arm of Mother’s chair. “I have always found myself terribly attracted to precocious young things. Especially you precocious young girls, trying so hard to prove yourself in a world that wants nothing but to break you.”

Lady Briarwood stared at Cassandra for another moment. “Sit up, darling,” she said abruptly.

Cassandra remained lying on her stomach, on the cold stone floor of her parents’ chambers, glaring up at Lady Briarwood.

“Up,” Lady Briarwood said sharply. “Or we will have to use force.”

“Fuck. Off.” Cassandra spat, through grasps.

Lady Briarwood shut her eyes, sighed deeply, and then smirked. “You do realize, darling, that you’ve left us no choice.”

She snapped her fingers again, and again, Cassandra’s mind was flooded with white-hot pain. After she came back into her body, she saw Lady Briarwood sitting above her again.

“Now,” Lady Briarwood said, “We _suggest_ that you sit up.”

Cassandra’s body, without any input on her part, pulled herself up so that she was kneeling before Lady Briarwood.

“ _Good_ girl,” Lady Briarwood praised. “Finally, you seem to have learned how to properly behave for your betters.”

“I wish you were dead,” Cassandra said, through clenched teeth.

“I _suggest_ ,” Lady Briarwood said again, “that you remain _silent_ until I’m through with you.”

Cassandra shut her mouth, trapped in silence.

“ _Good_ girl,” Lady Briarwood said again. “Now, it seems that you have a bit of an issue with our proposal. Which is a terrible thing, because it means that we are going to have to do things the hard way.”

Lady Briarwood smiled, a cruel tilt to her smirk. “And my husband and I- well, as you saw a few days ago, we have _no_ difficulties doing things the hard way.”

She snapped her fingers once again, sending Cassandra writhing in agony, the bright arcane pain seeming more than twice as strong as it had the previous three times. She wasn’t entirely certain how long it took for her mind and vision to clear. When she did, she realized that she was in her bedroom, sitting atop her bed.

She heaved in a deep breath, taking a moment to appreciate the ease of the air coming in and out of her lungs, the softness of it and the sweetness of it.

She shut her eyes for a moment again, just to appreciate her lungs and her breathing.

Then, she opened her eyes wide, and jumped off her bed.

And then, suddenly, her feet were sore and there was a track worn into the slightly dirty stone floor of her room, as though she had been pacing.

And then, the window was shattered and smashed open, and Cassandra had her head poking out, staring down the smooth stone wall of the castle- far too sheer for Cassandra to climb, especially with no good rope.

And then, Cassandra was sitting on her bed with Lady Briarwood next to her.

“You,” she declared, “have been a terrible little girl.”

“I usually am,” Cassandra replied, her arm being held in an extremely tight grip by Lady Briarwood. “You probably should have asked my family about that.”

Lady Briarwood squeezed Cassandra’s arm tighter, and a cold shock of death-like energy flowed through her veins. “My dear, we are going to have to teach you to be a good girl. Your old family was far too lax with you.”

“I have never been able to be contained, Lady Briarwood,” Cassandra said. “And if you try, you may end up dead.”

Lady Briarwood smiled tightly at Cassandra. She raised the hand that wasn’t holding Cassandra’s arm into the air, and snapped her fingers.

Again, the white-bright pain flooded Cassandra’s skull and her vision, and she nearly bit her tongue off.

“Be _good_ , Cassandra,” Lady Briarwood said. “We really don’t want to hurt you, you know. We could be friends, if you would let us.”

“I’d sooner die,” Cassandra said.

Lady Briarwood smiled, and snapped her fingers again, sending another bolt of pain through Cassandra’s brain.

“We could arrange that, dear sweet,” Lady Briarwood said. “Have you killed, and then brought back like my husband was. How do you think that could help you?”

Cassandra opened her mouth and growled at Lady Briarwood.

Lady Briarwood reared back. “Oh, you _bitch_ ,” she hissed. She raised her unoccupied hand, and slapped Cassandra across the face.

In the next second, Lady Briarwood was standing in the doorway to Cassandra’s room.

“Learn how to behave,” she growled.

“Never,” Cassandra said.

The door to Cassandra’s room was shut, now, and she was sitting on her bed, with a gray scar forming on her shoulder.

“Fuck this,” Cassandra’s voice said, somehow echoing in her room.

Her body moved across the room, to her desk. It knelt, pulled open the middle drawer and found the farthest back bit, where there was a false back, and then she pulled out her illicit pack of lockpicks that she had won from Oliver in a game of marbles.

Her body moved back to the door of her room, and she began putting her tools into the lock to try and find a way to open it.

And then, without her remembering how she opened the lock, it was open, along with the door.

Cassandra peeked out, quietly, low, and saw the empty hallway, not even a guard posted.

There was only one way out, now, and it was through the kitchen and through the basements and through the dungeons and through the mountainside. It was for emergencies only, and if Cassandra was remembering right, the path was half blocked out by crates and storage and elsewhile things.

But it had to be safer than going through the main hall, which was bound to be full of guards and vampires and necromancers and killers.

So Cassandra ran to the kitchen. There were no guards on the way there at all- suspicious, but convenient. The kitchen led straight to the dungeons, and the dungeons were unguarded and silent-

“Cassandra?”

Not silent, then, not quite, as Percival crawled forward out of the corner of a cell, reaching for Cassandra. He looked sickly, and half-drained of blood, with dark purple circles under his eyes and a shade of fear within them.

And then, for a moment, he was fine. He was taller, he was stronger, he was a grown man and he wasn’t scared or sick or pale or sleepless at all.

And then he was, again, and it was so much worse.

“Percival?” Cassandra’s voice asked weakly. She felt, for the first time since she watched her family die, like everything was well and truly real.

“Oh, Cassie, thank heavens you’re still alive. I was- that is, Dr. Ripley said that everyone was dead.”

“Oh, Percival,” Cassandra’s voice said, as she fell to her knees in front of Percival, just on the other side of the bars. “I didn’t know, I didn’t know anyone was still here.”

Percival laughed breathlessly, and a bit hysterically. “Neither of us knew anything, then.”

Cassandra echoed Percival’s panicked laugh. “That’s right,” she agreed. “Neither of us knew jack-all. Hang on, hold tight, I’m just going to pick this lock, and then we’ll get out of here.” She took her tools and carefully inserted them into the metal lock of the dungeon door.

“Thank heavens,” Percival muttered to himself. “Thank heavens, thank heavens, we are not yet dead, thank heavens, thank heavens.”

“You can thank the heavens later,” Cassandra said, as the lock opened. “For now, thank me.”

“Thank you, Cassie,” Percival said, as the dungeon door swung open. “Let’s get out of here.”

Cassandra took Percival’s hand in hers and began sprinting down the long hallways of the dungeon, into the basement and through the storage area, maneuvering carefully around all of the crates and the nonsense left there, and then through the cave in the mountainside until she and he both popped out into the icy winter night of Whitestone.

“We did it,” Cassandra said giddily. “Percival, we did it, we really did it! We’re free!”

“We’re free,” Percival agreed, still running. “But not gone, yet.”

And then, as they were finally confident that they were getting away, that they were safe, that everything was fine-

The sound of hounds braying came loud through the icy, windy air.

“Oh, no,” Cassandra said.

“Keep running,” Percival said, pulling ahead of Cassandra.

It was easy to say “keep running”, of course, but much harder to do so. The air was cold and windy, the ground hard and uneven, the sky lit only by the twin crescent moons, and the trees dense and difficult to navigate even in the daylight, when landmarks could be found and not discovered by slamming into.

The two siblings were turned around and confused and half-lost, but still running from the baying hounds and from the distant, unforgiving silhouette of Castle Whitestone.

When they could first hear the sound of the rushing river ahead of them was when the first arrow struck Cassandra in the shoulder.

“Percival,” she gasped. “Percival, please.”

The past seven days had been the most pain that Cassandra had ever felt by a wide, wide margin. Watching her family be slain; feeling the shame for hiding, instead of fighting; the arcane torture from Lady Briarwood- and now this, now the arrow in her back as she ran through the cold winter night-

And then, as Cassandra was pleading with her older brother, another arrow hit her, just to the left of her spine in her lower back.

“Percival!” Cassandra cried out. She tightened her grip on Percival’s hand- both were wet with perspiration, but neither were willing to release.

And then, the third arrow hit her, in the center of her back.

Then the fourth, in her right thigh.

Then the fifth, just in her right arm.

And then, Percival let go of her hand.

It wasn’t until after Percival released her that Cassandra stumbled. Not until he was several yards ahead that she collapsed to her knees in the snow. Not until he looked over his shoulder for the last time that she allowed herself to fully collapse into the snow, face-down, hoping that the arrows would let her bleed enough to die.

The last thing Cassandra heard was the sound of her big brother jumping into the river, running away from her and his home.

The next thing Cassandra was aware of was of sitting on Mother’s and Father’s bed, next to Lady Briarwood.

“Your brother was a terrible young man, darling,” Lady Briarwood whispered in Cassandra’s ear. “Leaving poor innocent you all alone- why, that’s not a very good family at all.”

Lady Briarwood reached down to between Cassandra’s legs, up her ragged skirts and began to touch her. Cassandra shuddered at the sensation, and Lady Briarwood raised her hand, poised to snap.

Cassandra froze.

“Good girl,” Lady Briarwood cooed. “You’re finally learning.”

She took the hand that she had been about to snap with and placed it on Cassandra’s head.

“I think it’s time we start over, hm?” She asked sweetly. “What do you say, Cassandra?”

“Certainly, Lady Briarwood,” Cassandra said dully, still exhausted and frozen, afraid and betrayed.

“Good girl,” Lady Briarwood said, hand still between Cassandra’s thighs and atop her head. “We should start with something simple, I think. For instance… I don’t much care for the name Cassandra.”

Lady Briarwood dug her nails into Cassandra’s scalp as she murmured a few arcane words, and Cassandra let it wash over her.

“Good girl,” Lady Briarwood murmured. “You know, I’ve always liked the name Carlotta. Carlotta Isabella. Doesn’t that have a nice ring to it?”

“Yes, Lady Briarwood,” she said.

“It suits you,” Lady Briarwood said. “Carlotta Isabella. You don’t mind that name, of course.”

“No, Lady Briarwood,” she said.

“It’s not as though you have one anymore, anyways,” Lady Briarwood said. “Carlotta Isabella. I knew you would love it.”

“Yes, Lady Briarwood,” Carlotta Isabella said.

“Good girl,” Lady Briarwood said. “Don’t you worry, Carlotta. We’ll get rid of all the bad things. Everything will be just fine, from here on in.”


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING for csa from "He didn't wait" to "a more common pain"
> 
> warning for self harm in the paragraph "Carlotta tugged"

Lady Briarwood escorted Carlotta Isabella to a cell.

She tried to tell Carlotta Isabella that it was a bedroom, but it was obviously a cell. Second floor, used to be a deeper than average hall closet. No windows- probably not even on the outer part of the castle, probably built around the center. No more risk of smashing open a window and considering climbing down and out.

It had been full of linens when Lady Briarwood had taken Carlotta Isabella there. She had forced her to carry all the linens out, pile after pile. Carlotta Isabella had balked, at first, until Lady Briarwood had snapped her fingers and seared her mind with white-hot pain.

After that, she carried out all of the linens, every single very last one of them, all bunched up and dusty and cobwebbed from how long they had gone without being beaten and washed and re-folded.

“Good girl,” Lady Briarwood said, at the end of it all, and Carlotta Isabella growled.

Then, there was a snap of bright white cold hot light, and Carlotta Isabella was sitting in the dark, with only a thin strip of golden yellow light coming from under the door.

All she could do in the dark was sit on her knees and think. And think, and think, and think, and think, about everything that had happened in the past week. She thought about her family, dying- no, not dying, getting killed, getting _murdered_ \- and she thought about her brother, Percival, and saving him from the dungeons and running through the winter-cold pitch-dark forest and being shot with arrows and falling to the ground and knowing that her brother was getting away and she wasn’t.

And Carlotta Isabella thought about her name.

It had been changed- she remembered that, a half-remembered, blurred and hazy recollection of Lady Briarwood telling her that she didn’t like the name-

But what name had it been that Lady Briarwood had found so distasteful?

What name had it been that Percival called out to her, when he was sitting in the cell?

What name had her family shouted as they died, as they screamed for her to get away, get away, go, run, get help?

What name had it been, that had belonged to her? What name had she shared with her family, with the lines and branches tracing back through the centuries? What name had she had, that she had inherited bits of from her mother and grandmother and great-grandmother?

Her name, that was all she was, that was all she had- that name, that was all that she had ever been able to hold and treasure and make her own, in her twelve years, and now it was gone. It was all gone, disappeared and vanished and erased like a colored shadow through the colored stained glass of the first floor foyer as a cloud passed over the sun- she was nothing without her name.

The first thing that she had ever had, and Lady Briarwood had taken it from her.

Carlotta Isabella pinched a bit of her throat tightly, and _twisted_ , and kept _twisting_ even in the pain and the hurting and the half-choking, she twisted until she could feel the bruise forming, forming, formed, and then, only then, after minutes and minutes of the pinching and the bruising, when she was _certain_ , did she let go with a gasp.

“First reminder,” she said to herself, quietly, softly.

There was, suddenly, a knock at the door to Carlotta Isabella’s cell. While she had been distracted with her pinching and with her noting and her pondering, a shadow had bloomed in the light creeping in from under her door. A dark, heavy shadow, one which nearly blocked out all the light that had managed to squeeze through.

And the shadow knocked at the door. A solid, heavy knock, thicker and deeper than it should have been, with the thickness of the door.

The shadow didn’t wait for Carlotta Isabella to tell it to come in. It swung the wooden door open wide, let it connect with the stone wall to the right.

Standing in the doorway, letting Carlotta Isabella see him for the first time since that disastrous dinner, was Lord Briarwood.

“Good evening, my girl,” he said in his deep, lilting, accented voice. “How do you do?”

“... Perfectly fine,” Carlotta Isabella said, after a moment. Even standing, she was more than a foot shorter than Lord Briarwood- sitting there, kneeling on the cold, stone floor, it was like staring up at a giant.

For a moment, Lord Briarwood _twisted_ , the way that Vesper and her family and Percival and Lady Briarwood had _twisted_. For a half of a thought, he was bloodied around the mouth and screaming, turning almost to dust-

And then he wasn’t.

And then, he and Carlotta Isabella weren’t in her cell at all, but standing in the grand library on the first floor. They were next to Father’s desk, and Lord Briarwood was trailing his fingers down her spine.

“Now,” he purred, “lean over.”

He didn’t wait for her to acquiesce, instead forcing her down at a sharp angle so that her palms were knocked flat against the surface of the desk.

“You have caused my wife so _much_ trouble,” Lord Briarwood muttered, his hand still forcing down Carlotta Isabella’s neck. “You know, she seems to think that you can be persuaded to our side. Gently convinced, with soft, sweet words.”

He reached down with his other hand and tore Carlotta Isabella’s skirts.

“I, personally, feel that the youth need… a _firmer_ hand.”

There was a sudden, sharp chill where Carlotta Isabella’s skirts had just been, and she shuddered.

“Now, I would say don’t fret,” Lord Briarwood whispered into Carlotta Isabella’s ear, “but, really, this is a _very_ dangerous time for you. And I think that you haven’t quite grasped the depths of your situation.”

There was, suddenly, a deep, heavy pain. Not the acidic, burning, hot-white pain of Lady Briarwood’s arcane talents, but a dull, throbbing, physical pain, a more common pain.

And then, the pain had faded to a background noise, and there was no chill touch against Carlotta’s skin. No touch at all, except for where she was lying against the desk, her fingernails digging into the wood so deep that she was certain that she wouldn’t be able to remove them.

“That was the first lesson,” Lord Briarwood said, his voice now behind Carlotta and some distance away. “There will be more, of course. One cannot remove the roots of a sapling all in one go.”

Carlotta, with no small effort, pulled her nails out of the wood of the desk, flexed her fingers, and then lay her palms flat on the surface. Her eyes were watering, and she couldn’t see through the tears in her eyes.

“Stand up, girl,” Lord Briarwood ordered. “My wife has summoned us.”

Carlotta remained for another moment, flexed her arm and her hand again, drawing a letter opener near-silently up her sleeve. She heaved a deep, heavy, wet breath, and pushed herself to her feet.

“Good girl,” Lord Briarwood praised. He laid his cold hand on Carlotta’s shoulder and steered her away from the desk and back towards the door of the library. “Come along, now. We mustn’t keep her waiting.”

In another flash of emptiness, coldness, lost time, and Carlotta was sitting in Mother’s chambers again- this time, in the velvet seat that was in front of the vanity, and behind her, in the mirror, was Lady Briarwood, humming and brushing Carlotta’s hair.

“You know,” she said, conversationally, “my husband seems to think you need a firm hand to guide you. I don’t think so, though. Young girls- you need support, don’t you? Sweet words, soft hands, just a little bit of guidance. One catches more flies with honey than vinegar, after all. And really, you were falling over yourself to do whatever my husband or I said, before the dinner.”

At the mention of the dinner, all of Carlotta’s emotions, which had been so carefully contained, so delicately stacked away, fell out of their boxes and spilled over, the tears welling up in her eyes.

Lady Briarwood clicked her tongue. “Oh, come now, my love. Don’t let’s cry. You’re having such a lovely time now, aren’t you?”

Carlotta bit her lip and willed her tears to fade away, to evaporate, but they stubbornly remained, and began to spill over her lower eyelid and trace their trails down her cheek.

“Oh, my _dear_ girl,” Lady Briarwood said. She set down the hairbrush on the counter of the vanity and embraced Carlotta from behind, resting her chin on the young girl’s shoulder. “Come now. Tell me what’s wrong, hmm?”

“I want my mommy,” Carlotta choked out, the words coming too quick for her to measure them for weakness. “I want my mother back.”

She was now openly weeping, no longer trying to hold the tears at bay.

Lady Briarwood clicked her tongue in sympathy. “Of _course_ you want your mommy back, dear sweet. Young girls _need_ that kind of feminine role model in their life.” She raised one hand from where it had been resting over Carlotta’s sternum and gently stroked her cheek. “Here now, let me make it all better.”

And then, Carlotta couldn’t remember why she was crying.

“Do you feel better, my love?” Lady Briarwood asked.

“Yes,” Carlotta murmured. “Yes, I think so.”

“Good girl,” Lady Briarwood said. She released Carlotta from the embrace and picked up the hairbrush again. “Let’s finish getting our hair brushed, now. And then we can have dinner in a bit.”

And then, Carlotta was back in her cell, engulfed in darkness, broken only by the soft golden light coming from under the door.

She took a deep, shaky breath, and carefully slid the letter opener out of her sleeve. It had seemed sharper on the desk, when it was surrounded by the dull edges of books and the soft feathers of quills- without the background noise of the detritus from the library- or any detritus at all, in the darkness- Carlotta could feel that what little blade there was was quite dull.

Sharp enough, though.

Carlotta tugged down the tight sleeve of her dress and held her wrist out in front of herself. Quickly, quick enough that she didn’t have time to hesitate or change her mind, she pulled the blade against her wrist.

“She took someone from me,” Carlotta whispered to herself. Then, she pulled the blade against her wrist again, slightly lower so that the cuts wouldn’t overlap. “She took my name from me.”

The pain was well enough, but it wasn’t proof. Many pains could turn out to be nothing but white grazes on the skin in the light, and the blade was dull.

Carlotta raised her wrist to her lips and clumsily tried to find where she had cut. And there, indeed, it was- the taste of bloody iron. This was no false scratch; this would be a fair enough scar, and one that would be a good reminder.

Carlotta tugged her sleeve back up to cover the rapidly scabbing blood, and then scrambled for a bit to try and find a hiding place. Most rooms in the castle had at least one loose stone, from the many previous generations of de Rolos who thought that it was great fun to have a secret hiding place for secret messages.

But this was a linen closet, and one that had been full and dusty and cobwebbed until Lady Briarwood had had Carlotta clean it out. There were no loose stones here, no crumbling mortar to hide a message in.

Carlotta turned the letter opener around so that the sharp end was pointing at the ceiling and the dull end aligned with a crack between stones. She raised the letter opener up a bit, and then paused.

Breaking mortar was certain to make quite a bit of noise. And if she made too much noise, one of the Briarwoods- or their associates- was certain to check in on her. And what then? She would be discovered, and so would her only means of reminders that were certain to leave scars and memories.

So Carlotta put the letter opener back up her sleeve.

And then, suddenly, there was light, the light of the sunset from the balcony of the grand bedroom, and there was Carlotta’s voice coming out of her mouth without her approval.

“... a very… enlightening day, I suppose.”

“Well,” said Lady Briarwood, hands folded in front of her, with a seemingly sincere smile on her face, “I’m so glad to hear that, darling. We were worried about how you were going to cope.”

But Carlotta couldn’t quite let the words in through her mind, as she gazed at the Sun Tree- smaller, in the distance, but still the largest tree in Whitestone by a good bit, and certainly large enough to see when there was a public hanging.

“But you seem to be adjusting,” Lord Briarwood interjected, as he set down his goblet of wine on the banister of the balcony. “Of course, we aren’t done yet.”

But still, Carlotta wasn’t listening- she was too busy staring intently at the Sun Tree, trying to make out what the shapes hanging from the spindly ropes were-

“Oh, no, of course not,” Lady Briarwood agreed. “We have _quite_ a bit of work to do on you, my dear. Besides the mental conditioning… yes, we still have quite a bit of work to do.”

It was then, when Carlotta realized what bodies she was staring at, that again, there was suddenly darkness, save for the yellow light spilling from underneath the door. There was a soft mat with a thin blanket atop it in the room now, and Carlotta was sitting on it.

Absentmindedly, she ran her finger up and down her wrist, counting as she went.

Eighteen reminders, and she didn’t have a clue what any of them were for. Sixteen reminders she had missed, and she couldn’t even remember when she had made them. They were old, too, scarred over with healing, none scabbed or bloody.

Carlotta patted herself down, searching for the letter opener, and then threw the thin blanket up in the air, patting down the mat. Then, she flipped the mat itself over and scrabbled around the stone floor beneath it, until she finally found her letter opener.

She sighed with relief and clutched it to her chest a bit like a security blanket. She held her position for a moment, hugging the letter opener to her chest and breathing, and then she held out her wrist and sliced it open again, letting the blood bubble up in the cut and slip down her wrist like water.

Once the sensation of bleeding was gone, the feeling of the blood dripping faded and dry, Carlotta laid down on the mat to try and get some sleep.


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING for csa in the paragraphs "And then, Carlotta was no longer in her room" and "And then, she was in the library"

And now, again, in the midst of trying to find a happy dream, there was a change- Carlotta was in the basement, now, sitting in Miss Ripley’s laboratory. She was in an unsturdy wooden chair, up against the stone wall, and Lady Briarwood was leaning over her.

“Now, Carlotta, you’re going to drink something for me, alright?” Lady Briarwood said. “And then- well, no use in explaining it all to you. You’ll see.”

“Yes, Lady Briarwood,” Carlotta’s voice said- so tired, so empty- while the rest of her mind was busy looking around and trying to take in as many details of the room as possible- staring at the chemistry reaction, the one in all the glass containers that was so hard to see; and at the blueprints hanging on the wall behind Miss Ripley- also, strangely blurred and shadowed, almost to the point of invisibility.

“ _Good_ girl,” Lady Briarwood said. “Open up.”

Carlotta opened her mouth, and Lady Briarwood poured a silvery potion down her throat.

“Disgusting,” Miss Ripley said.

“Anna, I don’t mock _your_ tastes, so don’t you dare think that you are allowed to mock mine,” Lady Briarwood said in a sing-song. “Now, Carlotta, this may be a bit confusing.” She reached out and placed her hand on Carlotta’s scalp, and there was a sudden blankness in Carlotta’s mind, and then another one, erasing the first. Nothing but void, and then, distantly, the sound of a story being told, erasing the void and replacing it with a different flavor of nothingness.

And then, at the end of the story- far off, distant and echoing, was the sound of a snap of fingers.

And all of that void disappeared into a bright flash of pain, burning through the nothingness like a flame through parchment, burning through everything that was Carlotta and everything that had ever been Carlotta, leaving behind-

Nothing but what was supposed to be there.

“Good girl,” Mama cooed. “Now then, don’t we feel better?”

“Yes, Mama,” Carlotta answered. For some reason, she was desperately tired- but how long could she have been in Miss Ripley’s laboratory? An hour, two at the most. There was no reason for her to be so tired.

“A _very_ good girl,” Mama murmured. “Anna, I owe you an apology. You were completely correct about the process.”

“I usually am,” Miss Ripley said. “Here, will you be giving this to the girl now?”

“Yes, I suppose I’d better,” Mama agreed, reaching out to take the doll that Miss Ripley held between her thumb and forefinger, as though it carried a stench. “Carlotta, look what Mama got for you! It’s your birthday present.”

“Birthday?” Carlotta repeated, as Mama placed the doll in her lap. Absentmindedly, Carlotta began to fiddle with the hands of the doll.

“Yes, darling, don’t you remember? You’re eleven years old today!”

“Oh,” Carlotta said, and then seeing the disappointment on Mama’s face, hurried to add, “of course! Thank you very much, Mama.”

“Good girl,” Mama said. “Now, we had better go upstairs, hadn’t we? Papa is waiting for us.”

“Yes, Mama,” Carlotta said. She stood up from the unsturdy wooden chair and hugged the doll to her chest.

“Have you thought of what you’re going to name it?” Mama asked, as they were making their way out of Miss Ripley’s laboratory.

“Johanna,” Carlotta said, automatically. She had no idea where the name Johanna had even come from, but it sounded so sweet, it had to be a good name.

Mama sighed.

“It’s the first time, you can’t expect all the bugs gone right away,” Miss Ripley said.

“No, I suppose not,” Mama agreed. She raised her hand in the air and snapped her fingers, and Carlotta collapsed to the ground as her mind burned through with arcane magic.

And then, Carlotta was back in her bedroom, lying on her bed. It was completely dark- not even any light was leaking in from under the door.

“... could take several cycles to fully take hold,” Miss Ripley was saying, in the hallway. “Possibly, some elements will never be fully erased. You’re giving her an entirely new life. The human brain is very complex.”

“I _know_ that, Anna,” Mama said. “But, really, we shouldn’t excuse something like this. For her to remember… something like _that_ , it could undo everything.”

“Don’t be silly, Delilah. She would need more than one divine practitioner to do that.”

“Are you certain?” Mama asked, her voice now fading as she walked down the hallway.

“Yes, I’m quite sure,” Miss Ripley replied, her voice fading as well.

And then, Carlotta was no longer in her room. She was in the library, bent over Papa’s desk, as he whispered in her ear, words that she couldn’t quite understand through the haze of pain still cottoning her hearing.

And then, there were two identical pricks in her neck, and the sensation of bleeding, coupled with a strange dizziness, as though she were falling out of a window. There was several minutes of the bleeding and the dizziness, and then there were two overlapping _pop_ sounds, and Carlotta felt the blood fall down her neck.

“What a good girl you are,” Papa said, far-off and distant and blurry.

And then, Carlotta was walking through the town with Mama, crossing in front of the Sun Tree. The silhouette of the grand tree against the dull, yellow-ish sunset triggered something in Carlotta, and her vision blurred as the tears began to spill over and a distant keening noise overtook her ears.

And then, a blinding white pain overtook her, and she fell to her knees, scraping them and the stockings she was wearing. The distant keening noise vanished.

“I thought you were supposed to be cured by now,” Mama said, yanking Carlotta to her feet.

Halfway between Carlotta being kneeling on the ground and Mama pulling her to be completely to her feet, everything vanished.

After it all vanished, Carlotta found herself sitting in a wooden chair in Miss Ripley’s laboratory, her hands in her lap and her feet dangling over the floor.

“... trusting _you_ , Anna. Honestly, what in the world am I paying you for?” Mama was saying.

“I _told_ you, Delilah, this is an experimental treatment. How many times do you want me to explain this to you? Are you an idiot, or just hard of hearing?” Miss Ripley said.

“Anna, you are _not_ the one in control here. Fix this, or I will ensure that you have no further control anywhere. Understood?”

“Whatever you desire, my lady,” Miss Ripley said, bowing at a very slight angle. “Your will is, as always, my command.”

“Quite right,” Mama said. She turned on her heel and marched out of the room.

“Quite right,” Miss Ripley repeated sarcastically to herself. “What in the world does she expect me to do? I can’t just conjure everything I need up out of thin air. I can barely even be trusted to tell the story, but if anything goes wrong, oh, that’s completely my fault, isn’t it! The nerve of that woman.”

At that moment, Miss Ripley looked over and seemed to notice Carlotta watching her, and her face twisted into a cruel smirk. “And _you_. What happened, hm? Did somebody see the Sun Tree and remember what happened to her _real_ family? Aw, poor thing.”

“I don’t know what you mean,” Carlotta said, but there was a sick feeling in her stomach that she _did_ know what Miss Ripley was talking about- an old flash of the sun tree silhouetted against the sunset, but with things hanging off of the branches, and her being forced to watch, her head being held-

“Oh, shut up,” Miss Ripley said. She pulled a small potion vial off of the shelf, uncorked it, and shoved it into Carlotta’s open mouth, forcing her to drink it.

And again, the blankness, the void, being slowly overwritten with a story- and then a flash of dull, throbbing pain from behind her eyes.

And then-

“Are we feeling better now, my pet?” Papa asked as he stroked her hair.

“Yes, Papa,” Carlotta murmured, eyes still shut. “Was I ill?”

“Yes, pet,” Papa said. “You’ve had a terrible flu. You missed your birthday party.

“My birthday?” Carlotta asked softly. It didn’t seem right that it was her birthday, but-

“Yes, love, your eleventh birthday. But you missed it, so Mama gave you your birthday gift early. Would you like to see?”

Carlotta cracked her eyes open, and sat up in bed. “Yes, please, Papa.”

“Good girl. So polite.” Papa reached down to the floor next to his chair and came back with a small, leathery doll. “She got you this doll. Isn’t it lovely?”

“Yes, Papa,” Carlotta agreed, her hands remaining folded in her lap.

“Here you are,” Papa said, placing the doll in Carlotta’s lap. “Would you like to name it?”

“Johanna,” Carlotta said, without a moment of thought.

Papa reached over and pinched Carlotta’s neck. “That’s a terrible choice, my love. You should be careful.”

“I’m sorry, Papa,” Carlotta said softly. “I’m sorry. I don’t have another name. I’m sorry.”

Papa released his grasp on Carlotta’s neck and withdrew his hands back to his lap. “Very well. But you do know that you’re going to have to be punished for this, of course.”

“Yes, Papa,” Carlotta said softly.

“Good,” Papa said, standing up. “You get yourself all ready, and I’ll be waiting for you in the hallway.”

“Yes, Papa,” Carlotta agreed.

“Good girl,” Papa said. He walked out of Carlotta’s room, shutting the door behind him with a click.

Carlotta swung her legs off the side of the bed and began swinging her legs back and forth.

“This is terrible, Johanna,” she whispered. She nervously ran her finger up and down her wrist, feeling all of the scars that were on it. They were from when she was sick, she was nearly certain. That was what Mama had always told her. “I missed my birthday party, and I’m in trouble. This is terrible.”

She set Johanna back on her pillow and walked over to her armoire and opened the doors to find a dress.

Then, she was in the library with Papa again, bent over his desk again, her fingernails digging into the wood again, and the same sharp pain and bleeding in her neck again.

Another change, a sudden lurch through time, and she was walking through Whitestone with Mama. They had gone to visit Miss Ripley, so Carlotta could take some medicine- the acrid metallic taste of the medicine was still burning down her throat, so that must have been what they were doing.

There was a woman walking with Carlotta and Mama. She was older than Carlotta by several years, but still much younger than Mama, and she was shivering something awful.

Carlotta wanted to say something to Mama about it, so they could stop and get the woman a coat, but she was still not supposed to speak unless spoken to. So they three walked in silence.

Another lurch, midstep, and Carlotta’s foot set down on the cold stone floors of Castle Whitestone instead of the damp cobblestones of the streets. The woman was walking next to her, but Mama had gone ahead to her chambers.

They walked in silence, and Carlotta found herself guiding the woman to Mama’s and Papa’s bedchambers. Outside of the door, as Carlotta was about to knock, the woman caught her wrist.

“Do you know,” she said, shaking, still shivering even in the warmth of the castle, “what they’re going to do to me?”

Carlotta considered, and then shook her head. Sometimes, the people Mama and Papa brought back to the castle were brought on as servants, but sometimes they just vanished- and even more rarely, they returned to town. There was no way to know.

“Well,” the woman said, glaring down at Carlotta, “I hope you’re happy with the choices you’ve made.”

Carlotta shrugged. She hadn’t had very many opportunities to make choices, so it didn’t really matter.

“You bitch,” the woman spat. “You little bitch. You’re destroying the town that your family worked so hard to build. What the fuck is wrong with you, trading your town for living as some monster’s pet?”

Carlotta remained silent, shocked into stillness.

The woman took a deep, shaky breath. “Well,” she said venomously, “I hope it was fucking worth it.”

She released Carlotta’s wrist, and then knocked at the door herself.

Another lurch, just as the door was opening, and Carlotta was now sitting on a stool in front of her vanity, with Mama on the chair behind her, brushing her hair.

“Don’t worry, sweetness,” Mama said, as she finished her strokes. “That girl was a very, very bad girl. Those things she said to you weren’t true at all.”

“Yes, Mama,” Carlotta agreed, even as she continued to attempt to puzzle out what the woman had meant with her words, with being the pet to a monster- what could that mean? Was there a monster in Castle Whitestone?

Mama clicked her tongue. “Well,” she sighed, “I can see that you’re too focused on what that girl said to you. Mama will take care of that.”

Mama placed her hand on Carlotta’s scalp, and then there was a brief blank white emptiness.

Another lurch, and another, and another, and another- the library, Whitestone, Mama, the library, Whitestone, Mama, the library, Whitestone, Mama- everything hardly seemed to have begun before it ended, snippets of conversations, words being cut off mid-syllable and replaced, the world changing too quickly-

And then, she was lying back on a cold stone floor in a cold stone temple far away from Castle Whitestone.

“Cassandra,” Percival was saying, from far off in the distance. “Cassandra, are you alright? Is she alright?”

“I don’t know, Percival,” Pike was saying. “She seems to be coming around, now.”

“Cassandra, are you with us?” Kima asked. She patted Cassandra’s cheeks gently. “C’mon, girl, are you back?”

“Hello?” Cassandra murmured. “Yes, hello, I’m fine, how are you.”

“I told you it was too much all at once,” Percival said. “I _told_ you.”

Cassandra coughed twice and sat up straight. “I’m fine,” she muttered. “I’m fine, hello.”

“She’s fine, Percy,” Vax’ildan said. “Aren’t you, Cassie?”

“Yes, I’m fine, thank you,” Cassandra said, finally feeling herself coming around.

“Look at her, of course she isn’t! She’s just repeating the same phrases over and over again!”

“What, do you think she’s in shock?” Vex’ahlia asked.

“I don’t know! Maybe!” Percival seemed on the edge of hysteria.

“Percival,” Cassandra said, making certain that she had his attention. “Shut the fuck up.”

And with those final words of wisdom, she fell back again, cracking her head on the cold stone floor, and fell unconscious.


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> mentions of torture, rape, vivisection, but literally just the words.
> 
> also, super cool fanart! https://twitter.com/Jillamy_/status/1086822948118429697

When Cassandra woke up, she was lying in an unfamiliar bed. It wasn’t the bed in her usual room, nor the bed that she had grown up sleeping in. It was larger than both, and she was tucked up under the blanket. Her head ached terribly. In the room around her, she could hear the sound of several people bickering.

“shh, shh,” she heard someone say. “I think she’s waking up.”

There was a brief lull in the conversation.

“Cassandra?” Percival asked.

“No, thank you,” she murmured. She took her arms out from under the blankets and covered her eyes. “Percival, my _head_.”

“Does it hurt?” Percival asked, as a hand gently fell upon Cassandra’s shoulder.

“ _No_ , I’m just listing all of my body parts,” Cassandra snapped, before an intense wave of pain crashed over her. “ _Fuck_!” She flinched inwardly, but there was no response from the others.

“Here, Cassandra, sit up, I can help your headache,” Pike said. Cassandra sat up, as a pair of hands gently guided her, and she felt the gnome climb onto her lap and lay her hands on either side of Cassandra’s head. A soft, golden light flowed through Cassandra’s skull, filling it and pushing out all of the pain and aching that had been within it.

“Better?” Pike asked, gently drawing her hands away.

Cassandra let out a breath she hadn’t realized that she was holding. “Yes, much. Thank you kindly.” She opened her eyes to see Pike still kneeling on her lap, Percival holding her up on her right side, Vax’ildan standing on her left, and Vex’ahlia sitting in the armchair in the corner of the room. “Hullo.”

“Hey there, Cassie-girl,” Vax’ildan said. He was twirling a gold piece around his fingers. “You feelin’ alright?”

“Yes, I think so,” Cassandra answered. “Much better, now that my headache is gone.”

“And are you… “ Percy said, seemingly struggling for words. “That is to say, are your memories.. well… “

Cassandra stared at Percival, refusing to guess his question, and he awkwardly trailed off.

“Do you remember everything, darling?” Vex’ahlia asked. She stood from the armchair and laid the back of her hand against Cassandra’s forehead. “You don’t seem to have a fever, so that’s one side effect we can mark off the list. Are you nauseous, at all? Any aches and pains, besides your head?”

“Yes, my memories are all back,” Cassandra confirmed. “No nausea, and my headache is gone, thanks to Pike. Really, I feel fine.”

“You scared us,” Vex’ahlia said, pulling her hand back. “You were unconscious for nearly three days. We weren’t-” She caught herself, and cut off her sentence. “Anyways. We were worried about you.”

“Thank you for your concern, but I’m fine, now. Nothing to worry about.”

“Well, that’s good,” Pike declared. She hopped off the bed and clapped her hands together. “We should celebrate, that you’re alright!”

“Ehh,” Cassandra began.

“Maybe not quite yet, Pickle. We should probably take a bit of time for Cassie-oh to get back on her feet, huh?” Vax’ildan said, rocking back and forth on his feet.

“Yes, I don’t think we need to be throwing any parties quite yet,” Percival agreed.

“I never said anything about a _party_. Just a celebration. A nice meal, a picnic, something.”

“I… appreciate the thought,” Cassandra interjected, glancing around the room to make certain that she wasn’t interrupting, “but I really don’t enjoy celebrations, as such. Even just celebratory dinners.”

“Well, alright,” Pike said, sounding somewhat disappointed. “Anyway, Cassandra, I was wondering if I could possibly test your memory, for a moment? Just to make sure that everything worked out right.”

“I don’t mind,” Cassandra agreed. “Is it just a few questions that you need to ask me?”

“Yes, essentially,” Pike said. “Hold on just a second.” She gently rubbed her hands together, forming a small orb of golden light between her palms. Then, she opened her palms towards the ceiling, letting the golden light spread throughout the room, softening the shadows and corners.. “Alright. So, first of all, Cassandra, how are you feeling?”

“Fine, I suppose,” Cassandra answered. It was a not entirely unfamiliar feeling, the way her words fell from her mouth- not entirely thoughtlessly, but not entirely consciously. It was more as though her words were being guided through her, instead of being pulled out. “And yourself?”

Pike smiled. “I’m fine, thank you, sweetheart. Now, uhm,” she rummaged through her pockets, pulling out a sheet of parchment. “What’s your name?”

“Cassandra Johanna von Musel Klossowski de Rolo,” Cassandra answered. It was almost a relief, to hear the old mess of syllables again, after so long without them, so long with a name forced on her, a name that didn’t suit her at all.

Percy, next to her, smiled and patted her shoulder.

“Alright, great! Okay, so, next up… how old are you, Cassie?”

Cassandra paused a moment, thinking back to do the math in her head. She had been twelve, nearly thirteen when the Briarwoods had first come, and Percival had told her that it had been nearly two years, hadn’t he?

“... Fourteen,” Cassandra answered, after a moment too long. “Fourteen years old.”

“Um, okay,” Pike said, brow furrowed, as she made some marks on the parchment. “Okay. So then, next up, we have… “

“Cassandra,” Vax’ildan interrupted, “Why do you have so many scars on your arm?”

“Vax’ildan,” Percival snapped. Vex’ahlia elbowed Vax’ildan in the side.

“It’s alright,” Cassandra interrupted. She turned back to face Vax’ildan “I gave them to myself. As a reminder, whenever Lady Delilah tampered with my memory.” She glanced down at her wrist. “It didn’t really work, I guess.”

An awkward silence followed.

“Oh, Cassie,” Percival said sadly.

“Cassandra,” Cassandra idly corrected. She began rubbing the scars on her wrist up and down. “What was the next question, Pike?”

“... Oh!” Pike said, glancing back down at her parchment. “Right, just a few more to go. Um, anyways. What are your parents’ names?”

“Lady Johanna de Rolo and lord Frederick de Rolo,” Cassandra answered.

“Okay, great! Um, next is… um, are you loyal to the Briarwoods?”

Cassandra blinked, taking a moment to process the sudden shift in tone. “Well, no. Not at all, no.”

“Are you certain?” Pike asked, examining Cassandra up and down.

Cassandra narrowed her eyes and straightened her spine. “Why _yes_ , Miss Trickfoot, I _am_ certain. Why, would you like me to try and scrounge some up?”

“Cassandra!” Percival interjected, sounding shocked. Looking around the room, the others seemed equally surprised at Cassandra’s outburst.

She shrank back into her bed and folded her arms in her lap. “My apologies. Please, do continue.”

“... Right,” Pike said. She glanced back down at the parchment, up at Cassandra, and back down at the parchment. “Cassandra, do you know what the underground ziggurat is for?”

“No,” Cassandra replied.

There was a beat of silence.

“You don’t have _any_ idea, darling?” Vex’ahlia asked softly.

“Of course, I must have mistakenly said ‘no’ when I meant ‘yes’,” Cassandra said drily. “ _No_ , Vex’ahlia, I don’t have the slightest idea.”

“Cassandra, there’s no need to get sarcastic,” Percival chided.

Cassandra made a face at Percival, and then smoothed out her features and settled for sticking out her tongue.

“Okay, great,” Pike said. “That was very helpful, Cassandra, thank you very much.”

“You’re welcome,” Cassandra said idly. “Is that all? May I be excused?”

“Well, that’s all the questions we have for you, at least,” Pike said. “I wouldn’t say that you’re allowed to wander around, yet. You should probably rest up and recover some of your strength.”

“Yeah, no need for any adventures today, Cassie,” Vax’ildan interected.

“Of course not,” Percival agreed.

“Oh, wait,” Pike said. She climbed back atop the bed and began forming a silvery ball of divine light between her hands. “This is to help you, in case any of the Briarwoods’ influence is still lurking around. It should keep you from being affected by anything.” She carefully placed it on Cassandra’s forehead, where it seemed to fall backwards into her skull.

“Thank you,” Cassandra said, after allowing a moment for the divine magic to settle.

“Sure, no problem,” Pike replied. She hopped down off the bed. “Okay, come on. We should clear out so that Cassandra can get some rest.”

Vax’ildan patted the top of Cassandra’s head. “See you in a couple hours, kiddo. Get some rest.” He kept patting the top of Cassandra’s head, as though it were a drum, until Vex’ahlia finally pulled him out of the room, Pike holding the door for the both of them.

“Can I get you anything?” Percival asked softly. “A book, or a puzzle? Something to keep you occupied?”

“I’m fine, Percival. Don’t worry so much. I’m just going to take a nap.”

Percival hesitated, and then finally stood up from the bed. “Alright. Just shout if you need anything, alright? I won’t be far away. I’m not going to leave the castle.”

Cassandra rolled her eyes. “O _kay_ , Percival. I’m going to take a nap, not get into a fight with a dragon.”

Percival laughed, and mussed Cassandra’s hair. “Remind me to tell you about the time that I fought a dragon.” He hesitated for a moment, then leaned in and kissed Cassandra’s forehead. “I’m not going to leave you, ever again.”

Cassandra smiled gently up at Percival, and then smirked. “You’re leaving me right now, stupid.”

Percival laughed and mussed Cassandra’s hair again. “I forgot how annoying you can be.”

“I won’t let you forget that again,” Cassandra teased. “You’re stuck with me now.”

Percival laughed again. “Get some rest, Cassie-”

“Cassandra.”

Percival rolled his eyes. “Get some rest, _Cassandra_. You need to get your strength back up.”

“I’m trying, Percival, but there’s a terribly annoying man in the room with me, and he won’t leave me alone.” Cassandra blinked innocently, while Percival put on his unamused face.

“Get some rest,” Percival said again.

“Okay, Percival,” Cassandra replied, and Percival finally made his way out the door.

Cassandra made herself wait for several minutes, counting to four hundred, before she hopped out of bed.

Now that she had had a few moments to look around the room and remember it, she knew where she was. This had been Ludwig’s room, once upon a time, and Cassandra had known Ludwig’s room almost as well as her own, and she knew where there were secret passages. There was no way that she was just going to lie on the bed, in silence, hoping for sleep while her worries ran around her head. She was bored, and she had nothing better to do, and the obvious conclusion was to go back into the secret passages she had played in when she was a child.

She clambered into the closet, and found the fourth stone up from the third stone left from the lower northeastern corner. Carefully, she tapped the stone inward, and with a slight click, the rest of the passage doorway turned inwards.

The passage was now coated with dust and cobwebs, enough to the point that her first minute in the passage was spent sneezing and waving the dust and webbing away. When she could finally open her eyes without risking spiders or rock dust getting onto her retina, she realized that she couldn’t see the tunnel anyway.

That wasn’t as much of an issue, though. Cassandra had been traveling these tunnels since she was less than a child, and she had more than memorized this one, in all her midnight trips around the castle.

She held her left hand out against the wall, and began walking. Her hand and forearm were both very quickly coated with dust and webs, but she kept holding it out so that she wouldn’t get lost within the tunnel.

Even this, though, wasn’t as much of a worry as it had been when she had been a child. Her shoulders now nearly spanned the width of the tunnel, and there were parts where she had to duck to avoid hitting her head on the jutting stonework. Cassandra was more than certain that, by the end of her journey, she would be painted gray and white from all the grime.

Finally, after several minutes, Cassandra came to her destination, made familiar in the darkness by an old pattern, carved into the stone by a mostly dull dagger pilfered from the storage area in the escape tunnel.

She carefully pulled the marked stone backwards, and stepped back as the stone door slowly turned inwards. The sudden light, feeble as it was, caused Cassandra to blink quickly, and then sneeze.

She stepped out of the tunnel and into the basement of Whitestone Castle. There was a small torch burning on the wall, and down the hall, towards the egress, was the sound of two voices speaking.

Cassandra considered, and then carefully turned away from her intended destination, and down towards where the two voices were coming from. Carefully, keeping close to the wall, she stepped softly down the cobblestone, past the first and second cells, and peered around the corner, at the two facing towards the escape. There, she saw the redheaded woman- Keyleth- sitting on a small stool, speaking quietly towards one of the cells.

“... and why not?” Said the familiar voice from the cell.

“Uh, because you’re super evil?” Keyleth offered. “And because I hate you? And everyone else hates you? And, um, if I help you- which I’m super gonna not- then everyone would hate me?”

“Don’t we all have the right to decide our own fates?” The voice purred. “And I have done nothing wrong. I have sought only to expand what we knew about the human body, and I did. Why, my discoveries could send medical science forward by decades.”

“You vivisected Percy,” Keyleth said, suddenly cold where she had previously only been ambivalent. “And you raped him. And you worked for the Briarwoods. And I’m certain there’s more, but I can’t be bothered to list it.”

“Merely studying the human mind,” Ripley said soothingly, as though Keyleth were a child throwing a tantrum. “Don’t you see, my dear? No progress can be made without-”

Keyleth suddenly stood up from her stool, sending it clattering backwards. “I’m leaving now,” she said, coldly, “because if I stay, I might do something that I regret.”

“You’re leaving,” Ripley called, as Keyleth strode away, “because you know that I’m right!”

Keyleth kept walking without responding, and soon turned the corner opposite of Cassandra’s.

After leaving a moment for Keyleth’s footsteps to fade, Cassandra carefully crept around the corner, and down towards the cell that Ripley was in. When she was in front of the bars, she saw Ripley sitting in her cell, back against the wall, head tilted up, eyes shut.

“... So,” Ripley said, without opening her eyes. “You’ve returned.”

Cassandra remained silent.

“Nothing to say, hm? So you know that I’m right, and you don’t want to argue.” She tilted her head back forward and opened her eyes. “Well-”

Her eyes widened, briefly, at Cassandra’s appearance, but then quickly returned to normal. “Ah,” she purred. “The prodigal daughter deigns to grace me with her presence. What a joy this is.”

“Shut up,” Cassandra said. At her sides, her hands had clenched into fists without her noticing. “Shut the fuck up.”

Ripley stood up slowly, keeping her balance against the stones in the wall of her cell. “Now really, _Carlotta_ , is that anyway to speak to one of your Mama’s friends?”

“Shut your fucking mouth,” Cassandra said. She could feel her eyes shaking in her skull as she glared at Ripley, who was now walking towards her. “If you don’t shut your mouth right now, I swear, I will kill you.”

“Oh, but _darling_ ,” Ripley purred. She was right up against the bars of her cell, now, and she reached out and stroked Cassandra’s cheek. “Don’t you want to be a good girl? Your Mama would be _very_ disappointed if she heard how you were acting.”

“Shut up,” Cassandra said again, but her voice seemed weaker now, betraying her. “Shut the fuck up.”

“Oh, don’t be so mean,” Ripley said. She put her hand behind Cassandra’s head and pulled her in, so that their foreheads were touching. “Or is it that you enjoyed those potions I made for you? Did you enjoy it, having every part of you erased and then put back together, all those times? Although, it’s not as though you ever lost much. You were a blank canvas. No personality to speak of.”

Cassandra fixated on only three words from Ripley’s mouth. “Twice,” she corrected. “It only happened twice.”

Ripley chuckled, and released Cassandra’s head- but she stayed in her position, forehead touching Ripley’s. “Twice as far as _you_ know. And we all know how spotty your memory is.”

“You’re lying,” Cassandra accused, but even she could hear the uncertainty in her words. “You’re lying. I remember everything, and it only happened twice.” She took a step back from Ripley.

Ripley laughed again. “Twice, certainly, if that’s what you remember. But, then again- you say you remember everything, don’t you? Certainly, maybe they cast some magic spell on you to bring everything back to normal- but, then again, maybe they just gave you one of my potions, and built this you from the ground up.”

Cassandra shook her head. “You’re lying. They wouldn’t do that to me. Percival is my brother, he wouldn’t do that to me.” Her hands had unclenched, and were now shaking.

“Oh, wouldn’t that be grand,” Ripley said. She was now laughing uproariously, words coming out between peals of laughter. “If your brother suddenly appeared out of nowhere, granting you clemency from all your fears and anxieties. Who’s to say that he’s really your brother, hm? Which life is real, the one with your brother or the one with your mother? Which you is it, Carlotta, that gets this world and gets a family?”

Cassandra turned on her heel and began to run back towards the tunnel, back towards the dark, dusty safety, but froze as she turned the corner and saw the ghastly, ethereal figure of Lady Briarwood standing in front of her.

“Time’s up, my sweet,” she said, sounding so kind, so soft. She reached out and took Cassandra’s hand.

And then, Cassandra felt herself get pushed to the side of her own body, out of control, into the very back of her own head.

“How disgusting,” she heard her voice say, and saw her hands turning over and around looking at all the dust and grime. “This is precisely why I could never leave you alone.”

Cassandra heard the sound of footsteps coming around the corner, and she saw her hands fall limply to her sides as Keyleth appeared. She took a moment to take in Cassandra’s appearance, and then approached slowly.

“Cassandra,” she said, kneeling in front of Cassandra and taking one of her hands in both of her own, “what’s wrong? Are you alright? I heard Ripley laughing, and I- I didn’t know what was happening. I came here as fast as I could. She didn’t hurt you, did she?”

“N- no,” Cassandra heard her voice say, and she saw her vision cloud over with tears. “Where’s Percy?”

“Upstairs, I think,” Keyleth said. “Do you want me to take you to him?”

Cassandra felt her head move up and down. “Please,” she heard her voice add.

“Of course,” Keyleth said. She stood from where she had been kneeling, and let one of her hands lose its grip on Cassandra’s, and she began to guide her up the stairs.

 _The game is already won_ , Cassandra heard Lady Briarwood say, the words floating and echoing in Cassandra’s head. _You stupid girl._


	17. Chapter 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> warning for threats of sexual assault in the paragraph that starts with "What a shame

Cassandra watched as Keyleth guided her body up the stairs from the dungeon, through the kitchens, out along the first floor and up another set of stairs. The whole way, Keyleth seemed to be trying to reassure her- telling her that everything would be alright, that Percival wouldn’t be angry with her, that she would never have to see Ripley again.

But Cassandra didn’t open her mouth to speak. Her free hand was rubbing her left eye, although both were weeping tears. Her feet and legs followed Keyleth without resistance, and her hand squeezed Keyleth’s hand back whenever Keyleth squeezed hers, but there was no input on Cassandra’s part.

_Stupid girl_ , Lady Briarwood gloated in Cassandra’s head. _You should have known that you would never get away from me._

Cassandra screamed a long series of vulgarities, but none of them escaped her mouth. They stayed trapped in her mind, circling and echoing around.

_Don’t be rude_ , Lady Briarwood chided. _We could make this a perfectly pleasant experience, if you wouldn’t be so difficult._

_Eat shit and die_ , Cassandra snapped.

“Percy?” Keyleth called. She and Cassandra were peering around the corner of a room on the second floor- what seemed to be Father’s study. Percival was sitting at the rolltop desk, shuffling through sheets of parchment.

“What is it, Keyleth?” He asked, without looking up.

“Um, Cassie wanted to see you,” Keyleth said. Cassandra felt herself sniffle.

At that, Percival looked up from his paperwork. His eyes widened at the sight of the two of them, and he shot up from his chair. “Cassandra?”

“Percy,” Cassandra’s voice said, wet with tears. Her free hand reached out towards Percival.

Percival strode purposefully towards Cassandra. “What happened? Are you alright?” He turned towards Keyleth. “Where was she? What happened to her?”

“She was- she was in the dungeons,” Keyleth explained. “She wound up talking to, um, Dr. Ripley.”

“She was talking to _Ripley_?” Percival asked. He put his hands on Cassandra’s shoulders and pulled her away from Keyleth. “How in the world did she get down there? Why did you let her talk to Ripley? What happened?”

“I don’t know!” Keyleth said. “I have no idea how she got down there. Ripley just started laughing, and when I came back, Cassandra was running away-”

“You were supposed to be _guarding _Ripley! Where did you go? She could have escaped! She could have-”__

“I _had_ to leave,” Keyleth said. “Percy… the things she was saying… if I had stayed there, I think I would have killed her.” 

“I don’t care,” Percival spat. “Look at Cassandra! Look what this has done to her! You _can’t_ leave that woman alone, Keyleth.” 

“What was I _supposed_ to do, Percy? Did you want me to kill her? Because that’s what would have happened if I had stayed there! She would be _dead_ , Percy!” 

“Then she should have died,” Percy spat. He had wrapped one arm around Cassandra’s shoulders and pulled her away from Keyleth. “I don’t care about her, Keyleth. I don’t care if you _murder_ Keeper Yennen. I don’t care about anything except Cassandra.” 

Cassandra’s arms were wrapped around Percival’s waist, and her eyes were clamped shut. All she could do was listen. 

“Then I’ll just leave you two alone,” Keyleth growled. Cassandra heard her turn and stomp away. 

Percival heaved a deep breath. “It’s alright, Cassandra,” he said. He gently rubbed Cassandra’s arm. “It’s alright. Come on, let’s go upstairs and get you cleaned off. How did you get so dusty?” 

“The tunnels,” Cassandra heard her voice say, quietly. “From Ludwig’s room.” 

_How did you know that!_ Cassandra shouted, in her mind. 

_I know everything about you, you little idiot_ , Lady Briarwood hissed. _Have you already forgotten everything again?_

“Why were you in the tunnels?” Percival asked. He began guiding Cassandra out of Father’s study and down the hall, when Cassandra’s eyes were finally allowed to open. “Why were you going down into the dungeon?” 

“I was bored,” Cassandra’s voice said. “And I didn’t want to just lie around in bed.” 

“I offered to get you a book,” Percival said. “And a puzzle. Why did you have to get up and wander around?” 

Cassandra’s voice hesitated for a moment before she spoke again. “I… when Kima and Pike and Keeper Yennen performed that ritual… I remembered a lot of the things that had happened while you were gone. Ripley and- and Lady Briarwood, they had me in the basement, and they would… they did _experiments_ on me down there, Percy. I just… I just wanted to see it. If all the things they used were still there.” 

Percival went quiet. “Oh, Cassandra,” he finally said. “I’m so sorry. I should have been there to protect you.” 

Cassandra’s voice hesitated again for a moment. “I don’t _need_ to be protected,” it finally said, sounding somewhat haughty. “I was _fine_. I just wanted to see it.” 

Percival laughed slightly as he guided Cassandra into Ludwig’s old room. “But still, Cassandra. I shouldn’t have let it be possible for you to talk to Ripley. I know how dangerous she can be, I should have made sure not to let you near her.” 

“But I was in the passageways,” Cassandra’s voice said. “Would you have bricked me up inside?” 

“Not on purpose,” Percival said. He pulled out a handkerchief from his coat pocket and began to wipe the dust and cobwebs off of Cassandra’s face. “You should probably wash up. Do you want to choose your new outfit, first?” 

Cassandra’s shoulders shrugged. “I suppose. I could just wear one of Ludwig’s old tunics and a pair of his leggings. I don’t really mind, either way.” 

“Alright.” Percival walked over to the closet and pulled out one of Ludwig’s shirts and then a pair of leggings from his chest of drawers. “Here, you go scrub up and change into these, and I’ll wait for you in here.” 

Cassandra’s head nodded, and her feet turned and carried her out of Ludwig’s room and down the hall to the washroom. 

_You bitch_ , Cassandra shouted. _You fucking bitch. Give me back my body._

Cassandra’s arms deposited Ludwig’s clothes onto the countertop in the washroom, and then turned towards the bathtub. Carefully, her hands lit a small fire in the grate beneath it, and then began to fill the tub. 

_Listen to me, you fucking bitch! I said get the fuck out of my fucking body!_

After several minutes of pouring buckets of water until the tub was full, Cassandra’s hands peeled her socks off her feet, and began to undo the buttons on the back of the dress she was wearing. 

_You are_ not _going to look at my naked fucking body!_ Cassandra screamed. For just a moment, her hands hesitated, shaking behind the last button, and then continued. With the buttons undone, Cassandra’s shoulders easily shrugged out of the short-sleeved dress, and it fell to the ground, causing a slight cloud of dust to erupt. 

Cassandra’s body stood now, in only her underclothes, staring at the bathtub full of water as it slowly heated. Her left hand trailed down from her sternum, stopping to graze just above her bellybutton. 

“Such a lovely little girl,” her voice murmured. “Such a lovely little body. Beautiful skin, if a bit… scarred.” Her right hand reached up and traced the scars running down her left wrist. “But still… so… _pure_. The very picture of maidenhood.” 

_Fuck you!_ Cassandra screamed inside her head. _Shut the fuck up! Get the fuck out of my body!_

"No, I don’t think I will,” Cassandra’s voice murmured. Her hands reached up, behind her back, and undid the clasps on her undershirt, letting it fall to the floor in front of her. “In fact, I think I’ll just… _enjoy_ my time here. Surely you remember how much I loved this body, my sweet.” 

Her thumbs hooked the waistband of her underwear and pulled them down to around her ankles. 

Cassandra’s brain froze, for a moment, as she began to scream. Some words were mixed in with her shouts, but most of it was just shouting, screams of pain that had been held back for all the time that Cassandra had been trapped with the Briarwoods, and more now that she was trapped with one of them again. Screaming for the pain to stop, for the humiliation to stop, for Lady Briarwood to _stop_. 

For a moment, just a moment, Cassandra’s body stopped, and Cassandra could almost tell her body what to do again- but just as quickly, the moment was gone, and her body was, once again, not her own. 

“A valiant effort,” her voice muttered. “But really, my dear. Surely you learned, after all our time together, that you will never win against _me_.” 

Cassandra heaved for breath that she knew she wouldn’t be able to take. Fuck you, she finally said, after desperately searching for whatever air would let her refresh herself. 

“So rude,” her voice continued. “I thought I raised you better than this.” Her hands came up to her throat, thumbs meeting at her larynx. “Consider this a warning, my sweet.” 

_You wouldn’t_ , Cassandra said. 

“Oh, wouldn’t I? This isn’t my body, dear sweet. It doesn’t matter to me what happens to it.” Her hands began to squeeze, and no air came into her lungs. _Should I stop?_

Cassandra desperately tried to draw air in, but her throat was far too constricted. For a moment she struggled, fighting uselessly against Lady Briarwood’s control. 

_Stop!_ She finally shouted. _I give._

Cassandra’s hands tightened briefly around her throat, and then released, falling to her sides. Cassandra desperately wanted to suck in the air, but her breaths remained careful and measured. 

“I’m so glad we had this little bonding moment, sweetie,” Cassandra’s voice said. “Unfortunately, that was a very bad thing that you just did. So you’ll have to be punished.” 

Cassandra’s left hand raised up in the air in front of Cassandra’s face, poised to snap. 

Just as the sound came, Cassandra slipped back into control of her body, and she was knocked to her knees by the sudden blinding white pain. 

“Very disappointed, indeed,” Lady Briarwood said, as soon as Cassandra could see and hear again. “Don’t worry, though. I’ll find a way for you to make it up to me.” 

Again, Lady Briarwood slipped into Cassandra’s body. Again, Cassandra fought, but there was no keeping her out as Cassandra lost control once more. 

“Good girl,” her body whispered. It lay down on the cold stone floor of the bathroom and snuffed the flames in the grate. It then stood, and carefully tested the water with a finger. It was hot, but not boiling, and Cassandra’s body climbed in slowly. 

The water almost immediately turned a light gray as the loosest layer of of dust mixed with the still water, and Cassandra’s arm reached up and grabbed a small hand towel from the shelf above. Her hand began roughly scrubbing down the tougher layers of grime, and the bathwater turned a very dark gray. 

Her body stood up in the bathtub and grabbed a bucket of cold water from the side. She poured it over her head, slowly scrubbing out the grime and cobwebs that were still stuck in her curls. Once her hair was free of any remaining debris, her hands fell limply to her sides. 

“What a shame, that the bath got so filthy,” her voice murmured. Her left hand moved around her body and hung just beneath her stomach. “Otherwise, we could… enjoy this unique opportunity.” 

_Go fuck yourself_ , Cassandra said, half-heartedly- still, the heat and pain from Lady Briarwood’s earlier attack was haunting her, and she could barely breathe from the recent cold water shock. 

Cassandra felt her body giggle, overly cute. “Silly girl. You still think that your little words matter to me!” 

Cassandra’s legs stepped out of the bathtub and onto the mat, the water dripping down. Her arm reached out and grabbed a dark green towel from the open bathroom closet, and her arms wiped her body down, leaving light gray streaks along the fabric. 

Finally, her arms reached over and picked up her underclothes and Ludwig’s old clothes. Her hands dressed herself, and then walked over to the washroom mirror and began brushing her hair. 

“Now, I hope you’ve learned to get along, sweetness,” Cassandra’s voice whispered to herself. “But it will all be fine.” 

Cassandra felt awareness and control creep back into her limbs, as the brush was mid-stroke. In the mirror, she saw the ghostly, half-real figure of Lady Briarwood appear behind her. “Trust me.” 

Slowly, a pale green light grew behind her, giving her a sickly silhouette. 

As the green light hit her, Cassandra slowly felt the old, familiar sensation of drifting away begin to take over. 

“Good girl,” Lady Briarwood whispered, and she took Cassandra’s body back. 

“Now, I know you can’t understand me right now,” Lady Briarwood whispered, “but I hope you know that this won’t last much longer. Although, you won’t either, I suppose.” 

Cassandra kept her thoughts quiet- nearly silent- as she listened to Lady Briarwood hum quietly through her hair-brushing. 


	18. Chapter 18

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> no major warnings for this chapter. just got back in and managed to post this baby 43 minutes before monday. huzzah.

Lady Briarwood finished brushing Cassandra’s hair, humming a light tune as she did. Once she was finished- not satisfied, because Lady Briarwood had never been satisfied with Cassandra’s hair, because it had never released its springy curls, had never managed to be as oily-straight as Lady Briarwood’s own- she began to dry Cassandra’s body with a scratchy towel, rubbing Cassandra’s skin dry and red, so that it looked like blood would come at any moment.

As soon as Cassandra’s body was suitably dry, her hands gathered up all the clean clothes on the floor- her underclothes, Ludwig’s buckskin tunic— which was too heavy for the weather and too dense for the situation— and Ludwig’s cotton leggings, from when he had been a boy and not old enough to wear a tabard or even have an apprenticeship. Her feet are bare, and when her hands gather up her dust-coated clothing, even the tunic and the leggings get coated with streaks of gray dust.

Cassandra’s legs carried her back down the hall to Ludwig’s room, her dusty dress held in her arms.

In Ludwig’s room, Percival was sitting at desk, flipping through various parchments and holding his head in one hand. He didn’t seem to notice Cassandra enter, until her throat cleared. He looked up, seemingly startled, and then smiled.

“That didn’t take as long as long as I thought it would,” he said. He stood up from the desk, pushing his chair back, and walked over to Cassandra. “Here, I’ll put that in the laundry.” He took the filthy clothing from Cassandra’s arms and carried it to the laundry chute, opening the door and tossing the dress down.

Cassandra’s body remained totally still as Percival was walking around, and when he turned back, he seemed startled by the stillness of her body.

“Are you alright?” He asked, walking back to Cassandra’s body and placing his hand on her shoulder. “Are you still shaken up by meeting Ripley?”

Cassandra’s body hesitated, and then it shrugged listlessly. “I dunno,” her voice said. “I guess. It was… she kept telling me about it. About how terrible I was.”

Percival sighed sadly. “Oh, Cassie,” he said. He hugged Cassandra’s body tightly. “Don’t worry. I’ll take care of it. I’ll take care of everything.”

Cassandra’s arms slowly came up and wrapped around Percival’s waist. “Thank you, Percy,” her voice said.

“Don’t worry about it,” Percival said. He put his hands on Cassandra’s shoulders and gently pushed her back so he could look in her eyes. “You don’t have to worry about anything anymore, Cassandra. Everything’s fine now.”

Cassandra’s face smiled slowly at Percival. “I know, Percy.”

Percival smiled back and let his arms fall from Cassandra’s shoulders. “Are you hungry?” He abruptly asked. “It’s nearly suppertime, and you haven’t eaten since-”

He abruptly silenced himself, and his face fell half a centimeter.

He and Cassandra’s body stood there silently for a moment, Cassandra’s eyes searching for contact while Percival’s remained focused on the floor.

“Well,” he finally said, “you must be getting hungry, is all.”

“I suppose so,” Cassandra’s voice said. “Will everyone else be eating with us, too?”

“Well, I don’t see why not,” Percival said. “Or- would that make you uncomfortable? Would you rather eat alone?”

Cassandra’s head shook from side to side. “It’s alright. I was just wondering.”

“Oh, alright,” Percival said. “Well, shall we?”

Cassandra’s toes wiggled. “May I put on some slippers, first? It’s not proper to be barefoot during a meal.”

Percival looked down at Cassandra’s feet, seemingly surprised to find them bare. “Oh. I, I, uhm, I didn’t realize. Hang on. Will Ludwig’s old slippers fit you, or are they still too big?”

Cassandra’s shoulders shrugged up and down. “I could put on some of my own things.”

“No, hang on, I’ve got something here,” Percival said, as he flung open various drawers on Ludwig’s old wardrobe. He dug around for several minutes, growing more and more frantic, as though he were looking for some sort of life-saving liniment rather than a pair of hand-me-down slippers for his younger sister.

Finally, after several minutes of digging around through the typical chaos of a fourteen-year-old’s drawers, arrested in time, he managed to pull out a pair of formal loafers. He held them up in the air, showing them off to Cassandra. “Found them!”

Cassandra’s mouth let loose a snicker. “You look ridiculous, Percy,” her voice informed him, her face smiling.

Percival grinned at her. “But I found the shoes, didn’t I?”

Cassandra’s eyes rolled. Her legs strode over to Percival and her hands took the shoes from his, and her body sat on the edge of the bed. Her hands slid on her shoes, and her fingers deftly tied the laces. The shoes were too large for her feet by a size and a half, but they protected them from the coldest of the castle’s stone floors.

“Alright,” Percival said, looking too out of breath for his brief jaunt through his younger brother’s wardrobe and how little effort it had actually taken, in the end. “Ready?”

Cassandra’s head nodded, and her body stood up from the bed.

Percival guided her body down the stairs, then down the other set of stairs, which was only marginally closer to the dining hall than the one they had already been on, and finally into the dining room.

Pike, Scanlan, and Vex’ahlia were already sitting at the table, and were already eating supper, as well. Pike was sitting at one of the corner settings, Scanlan across from her, and Vex’ahlia next to Scanlan, leaving five empty seats.

Percival pulled out a chair for Cassandra’s body, next to Pike, and her body sat down and pulled the chair in itself. Percival sat next to her body, and summoned a maid with a little bell.

After a moment, a maid came out of the kitchen, pushing a cart with two identical plates on it. Each had a large serving of slightly more invigorated greens than was typical for Whitestone meals, a slightly smaller serving of beef, and a small dinner bun. The maid took both the dishes off the cart, placing the first one in front of Percival, and the second in front of Cassandra’s body.

“Thank you,” Percival said, when the maid placed his plate down in front of him. Cassandra’s body echoed it, when the maid placed the plate in front of it.

Cassandra’s body ate in silence, while Percival, Vex’ahlia, Pike, and Scanlan all had quite spirited conversation, which only grew more spirited when Vax’ildan joined and attempted to steal his sister’s bun, and she in turn attempted to pull all his hair out of his scalp. It grew even more spirited when Grog joined, confused by being late to a meal. After only twenty minutes of eating, during which time Cassandra’s body ate only a quarter of all the food on its plate, the dining hall was in complete chaos, and everyone seemed to have some sort of food decorating their head or body.

The chaos died down quickly, as Grog pointed out Keyleth’s absence, and Percival explained about their fight.

“Percival,” Vex’ahlia admonished, “you should talk to her. You know how she gets about things like that.”

Percival looked away from Vex’ahlia, trying not to look as though he were pouting.

“Hell’s devils, Percy,” Vax’ildan said, looking quite serious despite the several salad leafs and asparagus sprouts adorning his hair and poking out of his left ear. “Just _talk_ to her. Nobody’s saying for you to go begging for her forgiveness, just bloody chat with her.”

“I dunno,” Scanlan says. “If it were me- well, I wouldn’t be in Keyleth’s position, that’s all.”

Pike nodded a bit, keeping to the background of the conversation, while Grog crossed his arms and tried to appear neutral.

“It’s not about who would be where,” Vax’ildan argued, thrusting his arms up into the air. “It’s that Percival should bloody _talk_ to Keyleth, or else we’ll all be stuck in between him and her for all of the silent eternity, and on and so forth.”

Cassandra’s head tilted down so that her face was hidden by her hair, and her eyes rolled, before her spine straightened and her hands pulled the hair behind her shoulders.

“This is ridiculous,” Percival said. “This is absolutely ridiculous.”

“Percival, we aren’t trying to make this difficult,” Vex’ahlia said. “And we aren’t trying to make this an argument between all of us, and we aren’t trying to make this an argument at all. We just want you and Keyleth to talk.”

Percival hesitated for a moment before he spoke. “Fine,” he said, looking a bit crestfallen. “Alright. I’ll go, and. And do that, then.”

He put down his plate of greens, which had become ammunition, on the table, and quickly strode out of the room.

The rest of his group stared after him for a moment, before Scanlan sighed theatrically. “Really, I’ve no idea how I went wrong with that boy,” he said, hands on his hips, letting all the food he had been throwing slide off and onto the floor.

“Shut up, Scanlan,” Vex’ahlia said. She also put her plate down on the table and followed Percival out of the room.

“Well, this sucks,” Grog said, a few moments after Vex’ahlia’s departure. “We was havin’ fun, and now everybody’s all mad with each other, and I was _winnin’_ the food fight.”

“I know, Grog,” Pike said. She patted his elbow awkwardly, from where she was standing behind him as a shield. “Don’t worry. There’ll be more food fights, once Keyleth and Percy have made up.”

“Yeah, don’t worry about it, big guy. We’ve got more than enough time- and space- for a food fight.” Vax’ildan said, as he tossed his plate towards the table like a flying disk, and landed it with only minimal damage to the greens and dish. “I’m off to get rid of all this leafy nonsense. You all stay and enjoy, though. I insist.”

He walked off jauntily, whistling a tune with his hands stuck in his trouser pockets.

“Yeah, Grog, you should probably get washed off too,” Pike said. “And I’ve got some, um, research to do, with Keeper Yennen.” Her eyes slid over to glance at Cassandra’s body. “Cassandra, shouldn’t you be off to bed?”

Cassandra’s head glanced up and her eyes met with Pike’s. After a moment and a half of staring at each other, her eyes looked away. “Alright,” her voice said. “I’ll be going up to bed, then. Good night, Pike. Good night, Grog.”

“G’night,” Grog said, as Cassandra’s body stood up and walked away from the table.

“Good night, sweetie,” Pike said, with a chipper wave.

Cassandra’s body walked out of the dining hall, up the staircase that was marginally closer to the dining hall, and then down the corridor and up the staircase that was marginally closer to Ludwig’s room.

As soon as it was in Ludwig’s room, it turned and used her hands to lock the door shut, and then stripped down to underclothes and pulled a towel out of Ludwig’s still disorganized wardrobe, from the bottom drawer, where Ludwig had always kept spare towels and scraps of fabric, just in case. Then, Cassandra’s arms gathered up the clothes that had been borrowed from Ludwig, and held them close to her chest, before wrapping the towel over her head and around her shoulders and the pile of clothing.

Then, Cassandra’s body crawled into the stone closet, and tapped the fourth stone up from the third stone left from the lower northeastern corner. With a slight _click_ , the stone pressed inward, and the passageway revealed itself.

Cassandra’s body walked into the passageway, the towel protecting it from most of the dust and cobwebs, and it climbed the path down the staircases and around the corners that it took to get to the dungeons, until it reached the marked brick. It held Cassandra’s hand up to the brick, lightly, and it listened.

From the other side of the brick wall was a loud argument between Keyleth and Percival. There was a great deal of shouting, and a great many sounds of people hitting various things to illustrate their point. It was a bit too dim for Cassandra’s ears to make out the particulars of what was being said, but the anger in the conversation was clear.

After another shout from Keyleth, the conversation faded. Cassandra’s hand nearly pressed in on the marked stone, but remained just outside the range of triggering the hidden doorway. And a good thing, too, as Cassandra’s ears faintly heard the sound of one of Percival’s guns go off. Finally, after another moment, two moments, three moments of waiting, Cassandra’s hand pushed the stone in, and the door opened. Cassandra’s body stepped out of the passageway, just in time to hear the door to the first floor slam shut.

Cassandra’s body dropped the towel before redressing in Ludwig’s borrowed clothing, with the heavy buckskin tunic and the cotton leggings, which her feet had to kick the shoes off to do, before putting them back on again.

Her body walked around the corner, searching for Ripley’s jail cell, and stared in.

“Well,” her voice said, with a trace of a smile, “this seems to take care of quite a few of my problems.”

There, sitting in what had just been her jail cell a few moments ago, was Doctor Anna Ripley’s corpse, with a large, bloody hole through her forehead, mouth still smiling.

“What luck,” Cassandra’s voice murmured, before it turned away from the scene and continued walking towards its goal.


	19. Chapter 19

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cassandra's csa is mentioned, but no detail

Cassandra’s feet carried her body down the hall of the dungeons, past the other cells and what little light there was in the darkness. Her body carried her through the darkness, seeming certain of its path- her fingertips did not trail along the stone wall, her gait did not slow, her eyes did not open wider in an effort to force more light in. Her body knew where it was taking her.

It rounded the corner of the hallway, reached out, and pushed against a wooden surface. There was no give, and Cassandra’s body sighed. It reached out a hand, somewhat less certain, now, and carefully grasped a doorknob tightly. After just a moment of holding it, it began to melt in Cassandra’s hand, and the acrid scent of melting metal filled the space.

Cassandra’s hand released the melting remains of the doorknob, letting it splash to the ground. Her hand reached out and pushed the door in with a quiet creak.

Her body stepped into the room and turned immediately to the right, reaching up and pulling something off the wall. Her other hand groped out and found a small box on a countertop, which it fumbled open. After a few moments of her fingers clumsily trying to articulate the contents of the box, a small, bright flame erupted only a few inches from her face. Her hand tossed the tinderbox back onto the countertop.

Her body was now in a small room- rather, not just any small room, but the small room where Ripley and Lady Briarwood and herself had spent so much time-

“There you are,” Lady Briarwood murmured in Cassandra’s voice. “Oh, yes, you thought you were tricky, didn’t you? I’ll admit, you were very good at acting the idiot- although, really, is it even act now? But no, my darling, it’s not difficult to spot your spirit. You’re still alive, and you’re still _thinking_. That’s always been a problem with you, thinking too much on things that don’t matter.”

Lady Briarwood was pulling a large variety of alchemic ingredients out of the cupboards, slamming doors when she seemed unsatisfied with the contents within. She slammed several vials and jars down on the countertops, hard enough that Cassandra saw a spiderline crack skitter up the side of more than one of them.

“Oh, come now, darling. Don’t act like you can’t hear me now. We’ve only just reconnected. Tell me something.”

Cassandra remained silent, trapped, refusing to allow this for Lady Briarwood, and Lady Briarwood continued one-handedly raiding the contents of the cupboards.

“My,” she remarked, “but your brother works quickly, doesn’t he? It’s not even been fully a month, and yet, the cupboards are bare. What a hardworking lad.”

Lady Briarwood curved a smile up Cassandra’s cheek. “Like Anna always said. You know, she always used to tell me how useful your brother was in her experiments.” She turned to survey the room and leaned against the countertops with a sigh. “I should have let Anna cut him open, honestly. What a treat that would have been, your brother broken and cut up, and you, still here as my daughter- and, of course, as our sacrifice- the Lord’s libation.”

She stood there in the small room, staring at the single wooden chair that had been pushed to the corner and the long metal table that had similarly been pushed against the wall.

“How annoying,” she muttered. “I go to all this effort to come down here, and your brother has already gotten rid of everything. I haven’t gained anything, really.”

_Then maybe you should go fuck off_ , Cassandra suggested.

“ _There_ we are,” Lady Briarwood said. “I’ve missed our little chats, dearest.”

I _haven’t_ , Cassandra sneered. _You ought to go die again._

Lady Briarwood clicked Cassandra’s tongue. “Really, my dear, didn’t I teach you better than this? Not only your coarse language, but your rude tone of voice… I feel that I’ve failed you, as a mother.”

_Oh, were you supposed to be a mother?_ Cassandra asked, before she could stop herself. _I’m sorry, I must have gotten confused by all the torture and the alchemic concoctions and all the fucking you did!_

Lady Briarwood clicked Cassandra’s tongue again. “More coarse language,” she murmured. “Surely you’re misremembering, my love. I treated you with the utmost kindness and respect as my daughter. Of course, I had to discipline you- but I would be a crueler mother if I let you run free than if I left you to your own devices without showing you the ways of the world.”

Cassandra could find no words to shout at Lady Briarwood, no explanation of her anger and her rage at her speech. Instead, she allowed herself to radiate rage into the strange half-real world she could shout into.

“Use your words, love,” Lady Briarwood said, springing up from her lean against the counters. She began searching the cupboards anew, somehow hoping that there would be new ingredients. “It’s no good for a lady to be unable to express herself.”

“Cassandra?”

Lady Briarwood turned to look at the doorway. Standing there, with only a dimly burning candle to light the way, was Vax’ildan.

“What are you doing down here, kiddo?” He approached her slowly, as though he thought she was going to explode. “It’s awful dark, even with your torch. You should be upstairs.”

He reached forward and took the torch from her hands. Lady Briarwood let it go without a fight, and then let Cassandra’s hands hang loosely at her sides.

Vax’ildan replaced the torch in its sconce and put the candle down on the countertop. “Were you looking for something? Or just wanted to do some late night cleaning.”

After a moment of hesitation, Lady Briarwood shrugged Cassandra’s shoulders. “It was already out,” she said in Cassandra’s voice. “I heard crashing noises. And I came in here, and all this stuff was moving around.”

“Oh, yeah?” Vax’ildan said. Cassandra couldn’t tell if he believed Lady Briarwood’s story or not. “That’s pretty weird, huh.”

Lady Briarwood nodded Cassandra’s head.

“But what were you doing down here in the first place, kid?” Vax’ildan asked. He held up his left hand, which had a dusty, cobwebbed towel in it. “Found this next to the secret passage. Look familiar?”

Lady Briarwood hesitated again, and turned Cassandra’s gaze towards the floor.

Vax’ildan sighed. “I’m not saying you’re in trouble, kid. Just wanted to know why you decided to sneak down here in the middle of the night.”

Lady Briarwood shrugged Cassandra’s shoulders.

“I’ll wait for an answer, kid,” Vax’ildan said. He slung the towel over his shoulder.

“Your clothes are going to get dirty,” Lady Briarwood said quietly.

“Guess I should’ve put a towel over them, huh,” Vax’ildan said, without changing his expression. “I’ll wait.”

Lady Briarwood kept her gaze focused on the floor, not acknowledging Vax’ildan at all. The silence stretched on for several minutes, until Vax’ildan finally sighed. “Alright, fine. We can talk in the morning.”

He grabbed the candle and turned to face the door. He walked through the doorway a few steps before he turned to look over his shoulder. “Come on, then. I’m not gonna let you walk back alone.”

Lady Briarwood nodded and began following him.

He guided her out through the tunnels, following the loop so that Ripley’s body wouldn’t be in view. He walked so that the glow from the candle was always wavering between being in and out of her range of sight, so that it was as though she were following a will-o-wisp out of the dark mists and back to civilization.

After several minutes, they were back outside of Ludwig’s bedroom, Vax’ildan leaning against the wall to block her entrance.

“I’m gonna be honest, kid, this is a little suspicious,” Vax’ildan said. “Hearing voices from the basement, hearing crashing noises… I don’t really like that.”

Lady Briarwood scratched Cassandra’s arm. “Sorry. Wasn’t my idea.”

“Yeah, I’m sure it wasn’t,” Vax’ildan said. “You heard those spooky scary voices from the basement and just had to check it out.”

Lady Briarwood remained still and silent.

“I dunno, kid,” Vax’ildan said again. “I’ve only known Carlotta for about a week and a half. And I’ve only known Cassandra for about three days. And from what Percy’s told me, Cassandra is a lot different from Carlotta. A lot more expressive. Very opinionated, y’know?”

Lady Briarwood shrugged Cassandra’s shoulders. “I dunno. It’s been weird.”

“Sure, it has,” Vax’ildan agreed. “It’s been a weird, what, two years? For you, and a really weird few weeks. Month and a half? Anyways, you’ve been having kind of a rough go of it. But you didn’t seem to mind yelling at Percy when you got back from being Carlotta, huh? Didn’t seem to mind sharing your opinion then.”

Lady Briarwood hesitated for a moment.

_Think, Lady Briarwood_ , Cassandra taunted. _Come up with an excuse for why all of a sudden Cassandra de Rolo is a demure little angel._

“That’s _different_ ,” Lady Briarwood finally said. “Percy’s my _brother_.”

“Sure, maybe,” Vax’ildan said, “but still. You’re not acting yourself.”

He glared into Cassandra’s eyes. “Almost seems like someone else is acting you entirely.”

After leaving a moment for his accusation and terrible grammar to sink in, Vax’ildan leaned back with an easy smile. “Nah, I’m probably imagining things.” He turned and began to walk away with his candle. He stopped after a few feet and looked over his shoulder. “On the off-chance that I’m not, though… we’ve got quite a lot of firepower on our side. And most of us are very protective of Percy and things that would upset him.”

He smiled again. “G’night.”

He turned and walked off again.

Lady Briarwood stood in Ludwig’s doorway for a moment, watching him walk off and the glow from his candle vanish, before she turned and entered Ludwig’s old room.

_Looks like someone’s fun is almost up_ , Cassandra said. _What kind of idiot are you?_

“The kind of _idiot_ who is sick and tired of hearing your nonsense,” Lady Briarwood hissed angrily as she stomped towards Ludwig’s desk. Rifling through her pockets she pulled out several glass flasks and slammed them down. “I may not have nearly as much alchemic training as fair Lady Ripley, but I do know enough to eliminate _you_ and make _my_ job easier.”

_And I’m just_ positive _that no one will notice anything amiss_ , Cassandra jabbed.

“They won’t have time,” Lady Briarwood muttered. “If all goes according to plan- and it _will_ \- they won’t even have time to wake up in the morning.”

“Huh,” said a voice from the doorway. Lady Briarwood spun around, guarding her samples behind her back. Standing in the open door was Vax’ildan, leaning against the jamb. “Y’know, I figured I’d get some proof, I just didn’t figure it’d be so soon.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Lady Briarwood said immediately. She was tense. Caught.

“Bullshit you don’t,” Vax’ildan said. He stalked into Ludwig’s room, slamming the door behind him. “I’m not sure who you are- I’ve got a guess, of course, but I’m not entirely certain- but the point, is, I’d like _you_ out and _Cassandra_ back in. Understand?”

“Oh, I understand,” Lady Briarwood said. She was relaxing, though, her shoulders slumping and her fists unclenching. “I understand completely.”

_Don’t you fucking dare_ , Cassandra said. _Don’t you_ fucking _dare._

“And soon,” Lady Briarwood said, slowly approaching Vax’ildan, “you will too.”

She laid Cassandra’s hand against Vax’ildan’s cheek, and Cassandra felt Lady Briarwood’s magic flow through her, from her heart through her arm and through her hand, up into Vax’ildan’s head.

“You understand,” Lady Briarwood said quietly. “It was hard to do this, so very difficult, but you understand. You know that I had to do this.”

Vax’ildan was silent for a moment. “That’s right,” he finally said. “I understand.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks for your patience, guys. its been a hell of a couple weeks :/
> 
> glad i still managed to get this out on sunday


	20. Chapter 20

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry for the wait folks. lifes been rough.
> 
> warning for threats of rape in the paragraph that starts with "Don't be so rude

“Good boy,” Lady Briarwood whispered, gently stroking Vax’ildan’s cheek. “We’re so proud of you.”

“Thank you, my lady,” Vax’ildan murmured, leaning into her touch, trusting her and falling.

“ _Such_ a good boy,” Lady Briarwood repeated. She turned away from Vax’ildan, leaving him to stumble back into standing, no longer supported by her. “Go and fetch me the things I left down in Anna’s old laboratory, won’t you? There’s a good boy.”

“Yes, my lady,” Vax’ildan murmured. He turned and walked away.

_You fucking bitch_ , Cassandra said. _Vex’ahlia is going to absolutely murder you._

“Don’t you remember, darling?” Lady Briarwood asked. “They won’t even have time to wake up in the morning.”

She surveyed the flasks out on Ludwig’s desk, hands on Cassandra’s hips, and sighed. “Well, I’ve nothing to do until the boy gets back,” she muttered. She looked down at Cassandra’s body. “Although,” she added, “these clothes are hardly appropriate for this sort of ceremony.”

She ducked out of Ludwig’s room, walking quickly across the cold castle floors in the darkness, until she finally stepped into Cassandra’s cell.

“That’s better, isn’t it?” She asked. “It’s been awful frightening, with these terrible new people taking you away from everything you know.”

_Go fuck yourself with a poisoned morningstar_ , Cassandra suggested.

Lady Briarwood clicked her tongue. “Haven’t I taught you anything?” She asked sadly. Without waiting for a response, she stripped Cassandra’s body down to only her underclothes, and spent a moment admiring it.

_Fucking pervert_ , Cassandra said.

“Don’t be so rude, darling,” Lady Briarwood said. “I’m only admiring what a fine young woman I’ve made you into.” She dangled Cassandra’s hand just below her bellybutton. “We have some time, you know. And you always did love our time together… “

_Don’t you fucking dare_ , Cassandra said, a bit closer to the brink of panic than she had been only a moment before. _Don’t you even fucking dare you fucking bitch don’t you_ dare-

“Oh, hush, my love,” Lady Briarwood said. She let her hands fall limp at her sides, and opened the doors to the armoire. “We haven’t _nearly_ enough time for me to enjoy myself. Come now, let’s get dressed. What should we wear today?”

_Fuck you_ , Cassandra said, feeling quite exhausted. _Fuck you._

Lady Briarwood clicked her tongue again. “I _suppose_ I could choose for you,” she said. She dragged her finger across the many dresses that were hung up, eventually settling on an elegant white tea dress, with a frothy robin’s egg underskirt and a satin ribbon just below the breasts and separating the shoulder-length sleeves from the pale white lace that ended them.

“They wear white for weddings here, don’t they?” Lady Briarwood asked, holding the dress up against Cassandra’s body. “Back home, we always wore brown. Well, the common folk did- we nobility would wear lovely scarlet gowns with silver accents. White will do well, I suppose. It could be considered a kind of marriage.”

Lady Briarwood carefully pulled the dress on, glancing awkwardly over her shoulder into the mirror to cinch the buttons on the back of the dress and tie the bow for the chest ribbon. She spun once, admiring Cassandra’s body, and then pulled out white knee socks from the drawers on Cassandra’s armoire along with her black patent leather shoes.

“Well,” she murmured, once she was entirely dressed, “aren’t you just a _delightful_ little treat. I could just eat you up.”

When Cassandra didn’t respond after a moment, she laughed, a merry tinkling of broken glass. “Well, I suppose it would be Sylas eating you up, really.” She spent a moment of silence. “If your brother and his friends hadn’t _murdered_ him.”

_I_ am _sorry that they murdered him_ , Cassandra said, after a moment of hesitation.

Lady Briarwood, who had been examining the objects left in the room, paused for a moment. “You are?” She asked.

_Yes_ , Cassandra said. _Because I wanted to murder the sorry old bastard myself._

Lady Briarwood scowled, but didn’t respond. She took another moment to examine the room, and perked up.

“My,” she murmured, “do you remember this, dear sweet?”

She walked lightly over to the bed and picked up the doll lying there. “You called her Johanna, didn’t you? I thought you were on to me then, but you were still such an idiot.”

She trailed Cassandra’s fingers down the rough, leathery skin of the doll. “No, you’ve never been able to see what I’ve been planning, have you, pet? And your last chance has already come and gone.”

Holding the doll tightly, she swung the door open and strode out and back to Ludwig’s room.

Vax’ildan was already waiting for her there, leaning against the wall and playing with his dagger. He brightened as Lady Briarwood walked back in, grinning.

“Have you done as I asked, boy?” Lady Briarwood asked. She breezed past him, taking an inventory of everything on the desk.

“Yes, my lady,” Vax’ildan hurried to say. “Thank you for trusting me.”

“Of course,” Lady Briarwood said. “You’re such a good boy, I can trust you with a great deal of things.”

Vax’ildan looked like an unusually happy puppy.

Lady Briarwood separated the vials and the empty flasks, singling out one that had no spiderline cracks or imperfections.

“Boy, don’t let anyone in,” she said suddenly, letting Cassandra’s hands go still. “Understood?”

“Yes, my lady,” Vax’ildan said. He moved in front of the door, sitting in front of it, cross-legged.

Lady Briarwood returned to her chemicals, taking a moment to examine each one for slight differences in shade and viscosity. Carefully, she began pouring bits of each into her perfect flask- a dash of the brown, a long steady pour of the olive, occasionally freezing when she had apparently been about to pour one in out of order. It seemed a terribly careful process, with even the thought of grabbing the wrong vial causing her to curse up a storm.

It took nearly a full hour for Lady Briarwood to finish her concoction, by which time Vax’ildan was dozing in front of the door more than guarding. As soon as she finished dripping in the last of the potions, she stoppered the vial and sighed with relief.

“There we are,” she murmured. She grabbed one of the remaining vials, filled with a sickly, greenish solution, and one of the empty vials on the table, not seeming to mind what ended up where.

“Get up, boy,” she said sharply, shaking Vax’ildan’s shoulder. Vax’ildan startled awake and blinked heavily at her.

“... Yes?” He finally asked. “How can I help you?”

“We’re going to the Ziggurat,” Lady Briarwood said. “Come now, get up. We’ve not long now.”

“Right,” Vax’ildan said. He stood slowly, entire body slack like a puppet with cut strings. “Would you like me to guide you, or to follow you?”

“Follow, you’ve no idea where we’ve to go,” Lady Briarwood said.

She shoved Vax’ildan to the side and swung Ludwig’s door open, hurrying down the hallway, low heels clicking against the cold floor and against the stairs, echoing against the brisk blue night, as the clicking became thudding as Cassandra’s body descended from the castle proper down into the ancient basements from long before the world was the world and Whitestone was Whitestone and Cassandra was Cassandra or Carlotta.

Lady Briarwood hurried down the long dirt hallways, barely paying any mind to Vax’ildan, hurrying behind her, or even her surroundings. The ghosts in the basement stayed well away from her, as though they could sense her necrotic aura and feared being caught in it.

At a fork in the tunnels, Lady Briarwood stood and hesitated, for a moment, before abruptly turning to the right-hand path.

“We’re nearly through with you and your accursed family, girl,” she muttered, approaching a tall, brass vat that had a tall spire of steam slowly curling out of it. She leaned over the top of it, needed to go on the tips of Cassandra’s toes in order to see over its lip. Contained within was a sort of bubbling, bright green concoction, which burned the skin as its steam came out.

She lifted the doll, holding its arm pinched between her fingers, and smiled.

“Tell Mommy bye-bye,” she sing-songed, as she tossed the doll in a light arc into the vat. The concoction hissed as the doll landed, a scant few drops splashing out and onto the dress that Lady Briarwood had dressed Cassandra in. A rotten scent escaped the vat, the smell of the burning of rotten meat, and, trapped in her own mind, Cassandra flinched back.

“ _Finally_ ,” Lady Briarwood muttered. “Congratulations, dear pet. You’ve managed to solve a puzzle.”

Turning on her heel, she marched back out of the acidic room, and continued towards her destination.

The clicking of her shoes returned for a brief moment, as Lady Briarwood and Vax’ildan both strode across a polished, golden floor, the bright clean chamber a stark contrast to the dank brown dirt of the rest of the tunnels.

After several more minutes of walking, they came to the chamber of the Ziggurat, black as midnight except for an odd sickly green glow that seemed to half cover the darkness, a shaded pus-colored film that made the ziggurat seem alive, seemed to make it glow with a kind of mystic, long-dead energy, from before the world ended.

All around them, the walls seemed to be moving, vibrating, strong and thick and cursed, and Lady Briarwood paid them no mind as she walked up the staircase to the top of the ziggurat.

At the top of the ziggurat, she paused for a moment, patted Cassandra’s body down, and cursed.

“What is it?” Vax’ildna asked.

“I’ve not brought a dagger,” Lady Briarwood said. She sighed heavily. “It can wait.”

She walked into the ziggurat, onto the platform, and carefully spread her items across the dais, only barely outside the range of the spinning black marble.

“Right,” Vax’ildan said, from behind her. “I think that’s gone far enough, then, don’t you?”

Lady Briarwood froze. “Well,” she said, “isn’t _someone_ a little sneak.”

“You sure are,” Vax’ildan said, sounding for all the world like he was calling Lady Briarwood a charming woman. “Hey, just curious, d’you remember that time my pal killed you?”

Lady Briarwood tightened Cassandra’s hands into fists. “I recall, yes.”

“Yeah, it was ‘cause you fucked with his head, wasn’t it?”

Lady Briarwood didn’t answer.

“Yeah, it was,” Vax’ildan said, sounding like he was reminiscing about a particularly exuberant picnic. “Y’know, he and me got a lot in common. Especially how we don’t much appreciate it when people mess with our heads. Or with our friends.”

“Well,” Lady Briarwood said, “it’s a lucky thing I’ll not be messing with your head, then.”

She turned suddenly, hand out and casting a spell, channeling arcane energy through what little magical inclinations Cassandra’s body naturally had, and sent an enormous blast of fire hurtling towards Vax’ildan.

“Well, dear pet,” she spat, “look what your ickle _friend_ has done to you.”

She uncorked the vial of her potion and slammed it down Cassandra’s throat.

And everything went black.


	21. Chapter 21

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> no warnings on this chapter. feeling pretty sexy about overriding jesus and also managing to keep to my promised update schedule.

In the darkness, there was nothing.

For several long, long minutes- or was it hours, or was it days, or weeks or months or years? With so much nothing, with so much cold and crushing and empty void, with none if any boundaries between her and the void, it was impossible to tell how long she dwelled there, impossible to tell who she was and who she had been and who she would be, if ever would she be again.

And then, slowly, as the slow-coming glow of the first star of summer came to be visible against the dark navy fabric of the first summer night, there came to be a soft glow in the nothingness- sourceless, so that it was impossible to gather herself and find where she was within the newly-lit void.

And then, even more slowly than the light had came, came her awareness of herself back into her body. It was a sensation nearly like falling, but slower- first she felt herself come to in her right foot, down on some hard, sharp surface- and then her left foot followed, tapping down softly into standing as the rest of Cassandra returned to being known by herself.

She stood there, in the dim void, taking a moment to catalogue herself and her wellbeing. She was no longer wearing the frivolous white dress that Lady Briarwood had dressed her in- she was now wearing a sensible pair of cloth breeches, with a long tunic with sleeves that were pinned at the elbow before elegantly draping down the remainder of Cassandra’s arms. The tunic itself fell to just above her knees, even with the thin black belt fastened securely around her waist. Her hair was pinned back and gathered into a high bun, and she was wearing her riding boots.

For just a moment, she allowed herself to revel in her own self-awareness and self-control, with no other voices in her head or people in her body.

And then, just when she was about to call out to see if there were any others in the strange, directionless void, she felt a presence slowly coming into being behind her.

She turned sharply, and nearly fell from all the good it did her, with the endless void not changing and the only visible difference being the scantest of shadows, it made her feel quite nauseous.

Slowly, very slowly, the two feet of the shadow tapped down softly on the not-surface of the void, and the rest of its body slowly became visible, like a body stepping out of a thick fog.

And standing in front of Cassandra, in the strange, unplace that the void was, was Percival. Who seemed to be wearing full-length flannel pyjamas.

“Percival?” Cassandra asked. She blinked, slowly, unsure of her own eyes. “What are you doing here?”

Percival blinked, and slowly turned his head around to examine his surroundings. “I- I’m not entirely certain, I must admit. I was battling with Lady Briarwood- it was so _strange_ , Cassie, the things she was saying- and after she cast one of her spells, she threw- she threw some sort of potion on me, I didn’t realize what it was. Do you know what’s going on?”

“No idea,” Cassandra said. “I’m not even certain where we are, or what Lady Briarwood is doing. What did you see?”

Percival shrugged awkwardly. “I’m not entirely certain, honestly. She was standing in front of that ghastly altar, with that strange portal… you didn’t have any idea what she was planning, did you, Cassie?”

Cassandra shook her head. “She didn’t share her thoughts with me at the best of times, much less now that I’ve got some independent thought back- not to mention allies. She’s quite upset with you, I should tell you.”

“I can imagine,” Percival said, his head turned away from Cassandra, seemingly trying to examine the void. “This is quite interesting. We seem to be in some kind of extradimensional space. A bit like the pocket dimension created by spells like—”

“Percival,” Cassandra interrupted. “I don’t mean to be rude, but I _really_ don’t care. I’ve got this odd feeling that we should be focusing on getting out of here, rather than on its benefits for the arcane studies of Exandria.’

Percival laughed awkwardly. “Yes, I suppose you’re right. You know how I get, Cassie.”

“Yes, I know. That doesn’t make it any less unnecessary.”

Percival sighed, and stared around the void for a moment. “Well,” he finally said, “do _you_ have any ideas about how we could break this?”

Cassandra shrugged. “No idea. I would suggest some sort of divine assistance, but I doubt that’s coming for either of us any time soon.” With a sigh, she dropped to a sit, legs crossed. “Why are you wearing pyjamas?” She asked offhandedly.

“Hm?” Percival asked, apparently having forgotten about Cassandra in the few seconds that he had been examining the void. “Oh, Vax told us there was an emergency down here. Screaming over the earring, made me fall out of bed. I ran down as fast as I could.”

“Hm.”

After several more minutes of silence- a time which felt like centuries, with only Percival there to mark the difference in the void and him not acknowledging Cassandra at all, or even facing in her direction- Percival snapped his fingers excitedly. “I’ve got it!” He declared, turning on his heel to hurry back to Cassandra. “I’ve got it! I’ve got it, Cassie, I’ve figured it out!”

“Oh, have you indeed?” Cassandra asked, not standing up. “Pray tell, _brother_ , what’s this solution that the foolish among us can’t quite grasp?”

“A deal, that’s all- an old one that I made, sister, nothing to worry about- it gives me a kind of… escape, you could say, free for any situation at any time at all. I just-” here, Percival paused, looking somewhat bashful. “You just have to bleed, Cassie. That’s all.”

“Oh,” Cassandra said. “Very well.”

She held out her wrist towards Percival, who looked terrifically excited. He carefully unsheathed a silvery blade.

“Although,” Cassandra said, withdrawing her arm, “before we do, I’d just like to ask you one thing.”

“What is it, sister?”

“Who are you?” Cassandra asked.

“What are you talking about?”

“Don’t play dumb, it doesn’t suit you,” Cassandra said. “You obviously aren’t Percival, so I’d like to know who you are.”

Not-Percival’s hands fell awkwardly to his sides, the silvery blade dangling like a child’s half-remembered toy. “Of course I am, Cassie,” he said softly. “Who else could I be?”

“Hm,” Cassandra said, barely trying and entirely failing to hold back her sarcasm, “I don’t know, maybe the creepy thing that Lady Briarwood has been trying to summon in my basement? Just a hunch, though.”

Not-Percival stared at her for a moment, before a smirk crept across his face. “Oh, _very_ good,” he said. “Bravo, dear girl, you’ve puzzled me out. Just to satisfy my own curiosity- that is, if you don’t mind- what, precisely, gave me away?”

“Oh, several things,” Cassandra said, leaning back on her hands to stare up at the thing staring down at her. “ First of all, Percival doesn’t call me Cassie. He calls me Cassandra. Second of all, we don’t call each other ‘brother’ and ‘sister’. We know we’re related, we don’t need to remind each other of that so often. Thirdly, Percival doesn’t know anything about arcane _anything_. I would be surprised if his brain was comprised of anything more than a collection of gears and wires and a dusty little manual on making friends. And _fourthly_ ,” she eyed the being up and down critically, “I am quite certain that Percival would never consent to looking so idiotic, particularly when my own wardrobe has been appropriately adjusted for our little soiree. Not to mention the suspiciously convenient knife that you managed to bring here, when my hands are, unfortunately, empty.”

“Hm,” Not-Percival said. After a few moments, his smirk morphed into a sort of unhinged grin. His stance, formerly a mild exaggeration of Percival’s anxious, hunched posture, became a confident, arrogant stance, his back tilted back to better look down on Cassandra.

“You’re much more clever than Delilah gives you credit for, girl.”

“I would have to be,” Cassandra said. “Delilah wouldn’t give me credit for pouring water on her if she were on fire.”

“Dear me,” Not-Percival continued, turning on his heel and beginning to pace. “Dear, dear, dear, dear, dear me. You know, girl, I needed that blood. Willingly given, so sayeth the Knowing Mistress! And yet, there you sit, your blood just _languishing_ in your veins. I offered it a _purpose_ , girl, and you refused on its behalf.”

“My blood is fine where it is, thanks,” Cassandra replied, watching every step that Not-Percival took. His steps made no sound in the void, a bit dreamlike, and Cassandra had the terribly dreamlike feeling that she was being chased by an enormous monster.

“What about a deal?” Not-Percival asked, stopping so suddenly that it was as if he had walked into a wall. “Your family seems to _adore_ deals, girl, so I’ll offer you a deal for your blood.”

“Then offer,” Cassandra said, carefully measuring out her words.

“Girl, I am going to make this world over,” Not-Percival said. “I am going to take away the power of all your pantheon, and I am going to become the pantheon in its entirety instead. Grander than Pelor, more dazzling than Bahamut, king above kings and lord above lords. And to _you_ , girl, I offer you a place in my world. You can live above the common man, not bowed to _all_ of my whims, instead allowed some modicum of freedom, given some kindness, some leniency- even some power, perhaps, like _dear_ Delilah and her arcane habit supported even in impossible circumstances. A deal, dear girl- power for you, a life to live, perhaps even happiness, if you can learn to live through it- and I have few doubts of that, given everything else you’ve managed to live through- and in return, all that I ask of you is a bit of your blood. A few drops, nothing more. Doesn’t that sound easy? Doesn’t that sound _soft_? You could be safe, girl, I could even send Delilah far from you. And all I ask in return is a few drops of blood, a scant few bits of that delightful red.”

He paused, staring down at her, arms raised a bit in the air. He was breathing deeply, as though he were Father Raynal after a particularly impassioned speech, and he grinned even wider.

“A simple deal, girl,” he said, softer now. “What say you?”

“Hm,” Cassandra said. “I say no.”

Not-Percival’s face fell, his brow furrowed. “No?” He said, as though he didn’t understand the word. “What do you _mean_ , no?”

“I refuse your deal,” Cassandra said. “Cassandra de Rolo will keep all of her blood, after how much she’s lost. My body is mine, and I’ll make no deal to give it up.”

“Hm,” Not-Percival said. He crossed his arms over his chest and tapped his foot for a moment, before he turned and began pacing. “Hm-hm-hm-hm-hm-hm- _hm_! Hmmmmmmmmm. Hm? Hm-mm. Hmmmm. Hm!”

He turned on his heel and stared at Cassandra. “Cassandra de Rolo will give up none of her blood?” He asked. “Her body is hers, and she’ll make no deal to give it up?”

“Correct,” Cassandra said cautiously, still watching Not-Percival.

“Well,” he said, “that is a shame. I was hoping that Cassandra de Rolo would agree to our deal.”

“Well, she won’t,” Cassandra said. She sat up straight and crossed her arms over her chest.

“Well,” he said, beginning to grin again, “if Cassandra de Rolo so _insists_ that she could _never_ find a way to work with us…”

He vanished, suddenly, and Cassandra frantically turned her head to search for him. She stood up, spun around, and nearly fell from the dizziness. She was in the void once more, with not even Not-Percival there as a benchmark. After a moment of labored breathing- and then another moment, to calm down, to breathe deep and slow and steady- Cassandra cautiously relaxed her muscles, kept her arms from being about to lash out at anything and everything, which currently entailed the abundance of nothing that she was surrounded by.

“Excuse me,” said a soft, feminine voice, from behind her. Cassandra whirled around quickly, and saw-

“Can you help me?” The girl asked. She was a mirror image of Cassandra- was Cassandra, really. The same complexion, if the girl a bit paler; the same brown hair with a single streak of white, if the girl’s pulled back by a yellow hair ribbon tied into a bow instead of a mature bun; the same scars, if the girl’s a bit hidden by glamours; the same eyes, if the girl’s a bit glazed over from arcane stylings; the same height, the same body, the same high cheekbones and square jaw and beauty mark beneath the right eye and the same everything until the clothing, with the girl dressed in a lacy yellow tea dress, with knee-high socks and black patent leather shoes.

“Can you help me?” The girl repeated. She was clutching a doll to her chest, Cassandra saw now, and her stomach turned over.

“I need something,” the girl said. “My name is Carlotta. Can you help me?”


	22. Chapter 22

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> warning for frank discussions of delilah's abuse in the paragraph that starts with ""You little idiot"

“This isn’t funny,” Cassandra said. She stared hard at the girl, then whirled around to glare at the void, pointing a shaking finger. “Do you hear me, you bastard? This isn’t fucking funny!”

“You should watch your language,” the girl said. “Mama says it’s impolite for ladies to swear.”

“Shut the fuck up,” Cassandra said. “You’re not real. You’re him, in some kind of illusion, or Lady Briarwood fucking with me again. You aren’t real.”

“Yes, I am,” the girl said, sounding somewhat affronted. “I’m as real as you are. My name is Carlotta Briarwood, and you are being _very_ rude.”

“Well, I don’t give a damn if I am. Go _away_ , you aren’t real.”

“Go _where_!” The girl demanded. “You’re no older than me, you can’t tell me what to do. And besides, we’re in some kind of… magic place, I assume. There’s nowhere to go.”

“Shut up! You aren’t real, and what’s worse, you’re _annoying_.” Cassandra began pacing around in the void, carefully keeping her gaze far away from the girl.

“I am _so_ real,” The girl insisted. “I’m as real as you are. And I _need_ something.”

“Oh, what do you need,” Cassandra asked, throwing her hands into the air in frustration. “My _blood_? That didn’t work when you were trying to trick me into thinking that Percival was saying it, why would it work now, when you’re just demanding it?”

“I don’t need your blood,” the girl said, sounding somewhat affronted. “I have enough by myself, _thank_ you. But I _need_ something.”

“What, then?” Cassandra asked. “Do you need me dead, so that you can take my place? Do you need my mind, my body, my heart? _What_ , for the love of all that is good and righteous, do you _need_?”

The girl was silenced for a moment, before she finally spoke. “I don’t remember.”

“She doesn’t remember!” Cassandra shouted to the void. “What a shocking turn of events, Carlotta doesn’t remember!”

“That’s not very nice,” the girl said. “I was sick, when I was young. Mama said.”

“Your mother is the one who’s sick,” Cassandra muttered angrily to herself.

“She is not,” the girl said. “Mama is the smartest woman I know. And she’s so elegant, and so beautiful, and she only wants what’s best for me.”

“You little idiot, she doesn’t care about you!” Cassandra shouted, turning back to face the girl. “When was the last time she pinched you or pulled your hair or scratched you? When was the last time she crawled into your bed with you and made you keep still while she reached down and played with your cunt? Hm? Does she really love you, or does she just like to play pretend?”

“My mama doesn’t do anything like that,” the girl whispered, her words echoing strangely in the voidscape, as though she were shouting down a well. “We just do quiet time together. She doesn’t play with my- with my what-you-said. You’re not very nice.”

“The _world_ isn’t very nice,” Cassandra said. “You should learn that early.”

“Oh,” the girl said. She was quiet for a brief, blessed moment. “Did someone teach _you_ that?”

Cassandra clenched her fists, flexed her fingers outward. “Oh, yes,” she said. She wanted her voice to be clear, pristine, the sweet low voice that’s been inherited by the de Rolo family for centuries, ever since they first made landfall in Tal’dorei and mixed the ever-present whitestone into their veins. Instead, it was clear as glass instead of solid as whitestone, and it shattered like glass halfway between her words. “Oh, yes, someone made very certain that I would understand that the world isn’t very nice.”

The girl was quiet for another moment. “I’m sorry,” she finally said. “Do you hate them? The person who taught you that the world isn’t very nice?”

Cassandra laughed, a breathless, desperate gasp of a giggle. “Oh, yes,” she said, and her lungs felt empty. “Oh, yes, I hate them so much. I want nothing more than to kill her.”

“Oh,” the girl said. “If you could, would you go back, and make certain that she never hurt you?”

“Oh, yes,” Cassandra said. “If I could go back and kill her, her and her husband and her monsters and everyone that she used to kill my family and to hurt me, I would.”

The girl was quiet for a moment. “If you did that,” she finally said, “would you still be the person you are today?”

Cassandra squinted at the girl. “What do you mean?”

The girl brought her doll to her chest and hugged it tight. “If that never happened to you, would you still be the person you are today? If you hadn’t lived through that horror, if you hadn’t survived the woman who taught you that the world isn’t very nice, if you hadn’t lost your family, would you still be yourself? Or would you be some unrecognizable girl, a girl you wouldn’t even understand? Would you have struggled so much, and improved so well, and become so strong? The things that hurt you are what make you, you. Would you rather be yourself, or would you rather have been safe and happy and loved, and believed that the world was kind?”

“But,” Cassandra said, her words quiet now, “but I _wasn’t_ me when I was suffering. She took everything from me, everything of who I was. She took my name and my family and my life and my memories. It was someone else entirely who suffered.”

“But don’t you remember the suffering?” The girl pressed. “If you remember the suffering, did you suffer? If you were someone else when you were suffering, did you suffer? And if you didn’t, why do you remember suffering so well?”

“No,” Cassandra said, shaking her head. “No, it was me. I was the one who suffered, but only after she took me apart and built me back together to be something else. Someone else.”

“And who did she make you into?”

Cassandra met the girl’s eyes. They weren’t glazed over anymore, not dulled and blurred and staring at a green-fogged world through a litany of oft-cast magics. They were bright and clear and sharp, a light reflected in them that was present nowhere in the void, and they seemed to be more real than any part of Cassandra.

“She made me you,” Cassandra whispered.

“She made you me,” the girl agreed. “She turned Cassandra Johanna von Musel Klossowski de Rolo into Carlotta Isabella Briarwood, a concise name for a precise girl who acted just like she always wanted a little girl to act. She took the old Cassandra and blended up her brain and then remade it, created a new little girl out of the old little girl. A synthesis, a genesis, composed of suffering- an elegy of torture, a coronach for a broken child. She took you, and she broke you, and she made you into me and while I was suffering for you, you became who you are today. You owe her for making you who you are, just as you owe me for the suffering I did for you, in my name but for yours. You are only here, as yourself, because she brought you here. You would be nothing without her, and less without me. We are _owed_.”

“What are you owed?” Cassandra asked, quietly. This was a girl she only half-remembered from being that girl- there was the viciousness that she had once buried, the anger and the hurt and the disgust that stayed wrapped deep in her heart beneath the outward trappings of a sweet little girl.

“We are owed _blood_ ,” the girl said.

It always came back to blood. Cassandra’s blood, taken by Lord and Lady Briarwood, and then taken again from her neck, poisoned and broken and diluted, now more shade in her veins than the whitestone dust her ancestors had had. And now, again, while she was deep in the shade, people demanded her blood, demanded it as though she should be giving it regardless. Her blood was as much hers as her body was, but her blood and body, when she had been the girl, had belonged completely and totally to Lady and Lord Briarwood.

Cassandra didn’t want to give up her blood, even if someone had suffered for her, even if the girl’s body and blood did still belong to Lady and Lord Briarwood, even if Cassandra owed her name and mind to the girl, even if her blood had already been taken from her so many times.

“I think I remember what I needed,” the girl said, in a sort of sing-song voice. “I think he said I needed blood. I think he said that I want your blood.”

“No,” Cassandra said. Clear, strong, controlled, now, a voice that glistened like the whitestone cliffs when the morning sun rose.

“No?” The girl asked. “What do you _mean_ , no? You aren’t allowed to say no. I _suffered_ for you.”

“I know,” Cassandra said. She took a step towards the girl, who retreated hesitantly. “And I do want to say thank you. I appreciate that. But I’m not going to give you my blood.”

“But aren’t I _owed_?” The girl whined. She clutched her doll tighter. “I didn’t suffer for _nothing_ , did I?”

“No,” Cassandra said quietly. She took another step towards the girl, and another, until her hands were on the girl’s shoulders. “You didn’t suffer for nothing.”

The girl hunched her shoulders. “Didn’t I _protect_ you?” She asked pathetically.

“You did,” Cassandra promised. She carefully pulled the girl into a hug, setting her chin on the girl’s shoulder. “You protected me very well. You might have saved my life.”

The girl hiccuped, and, so very very slowly, brought her hands up to hug Cassandra. “Aren’t I _owed_?” She pleaded.

Cassandra nodded. “You are owed happiness,” she said quietly. “You’re just a little girl who was invented so that Lady Briarwood would have something to hurt, a little pet who wouldn’t fight back against her scratches and pinches and magics. You shouldn’t have been created just so you would suffer. You deserved to be born to a happy life.”

The girl sniffled. “I didn’t want it to _hurt_.”

“I know,” Cassandra said. She released the girl from her hug and stepped back. “You didn’t deserve for it to hurt.”

The girl nodded, and swiped at her eyes with the back of her hand. “It’s not _fair_ ,” she said. “I suffered. I didn’t get to be here until after you were happy. And then I had to go again, because they _erased_ me. It’s not _fair_.”

“I know,” Cassandra said. She put her hand behind the girl’s head and pulled her forward so that their foreheads were touching. “It’s not fair that you had to go. It’s not fair that we were never together. But I suffered too, and you were happy, too. We are equal in our gains and losses.”

The girl shook her head. “We’re _not_ ,” she insisted. “You got so much more than me. You had a family. I never did.”

“You _did_ , Carlotta,” Cassandra said. “Because we aren’t separate creatures. You aren’t a girl who appeared one day, and I’m not a girl who vanished like a changeling. There was never a change. You were always me, and I always you.”

Carlotta sniffled. “Promise?” She asked.

“Of course,” Cassandra said. “You remember it all too, don’t you?”

Carlotta nodded. “Now, I do,” she said. “I didn’t.”

“Neither did I,” Cassandra said. “We are the same. When you suffered, I was suffering. When I laughed, you were laughing. We aren’t reflections, doing everything the other does the opposite. More like shadows- when I’m not seen, I’m the shade, and I did everything you did, exactly as you did it- and the same when I was acting. We aren’t twins, Carlotta, or two different human beings. We have always been Cassandra, and we have always been Carlotta. Always.”

Carlotta smiled. “Thank you,” she whispered. “I was afraid that I was going to vanish.”

“Not vanish,” Cassandra said. She released Carlotta’s head and straightened back up. “Always with me.”

“Always,” Carlotta promised. She held out her little finger.

Cassandra stared at it for a moment before she laughed. “Sure,” she said. “Why not?”

She hooked pinkies with Carlotta and bounced their hands once.

“Alright,” Carlotta said. “I think I’m done, now.” She stared up into the void for a moment. “You’d better go. I think they want you.”

“Good-bye, Carlotta,” Cassandra said.

“Not good-bye,” Carlotta said. “Just good night.”

Cassandra smiled. “Good night, Carlotta.”

Carlotta smiled back. “Good night, Cassandra.”

Slowly, the light within the void faded away. Once the light faded, there was no sign of Carlotta anymore- even when Cassandra called out for her, there was no response.

Then, the void began to vanish- and wasn’t that a strange feeling, the feeling of a specific nothing being erased, become nothing again, or even the opposite of nothing, as the void vanished.

And then, Cassandra began to vanish into the nothing-nothing of the void.

And then, she woke up.


	23. Chapter 23

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> LOTS of blood and gore. its kind of unskippable unfortunately.

When Cassandra reappeared, she was standing in front of the altar inside the ziggurat.

There was a floating black marble above it, swirling and rotating smooth and slow, and there was the distant echoing of a million whispered shouts in her ears. Her hand was reaching out for the marble, steady and prepared, in a stark contrast with how badly her legs shook, like a newborn foal or like an uncertain daughter; and with how dizzy she felt, as though her head was wrapped in alcohol-soaked cotton or she were plunging into the depths of an unkind ocean.

And there, on her wrist, was an enormous cut- more a gash than a cut, really, a deep gouge from the pit of her elbow to the pulse point on her wrist, soaking her whole arm in slick blood, and _oh_ , that would explain the dizziness and the shaking legs, wouldn’t it, with more blood on the outside of her arm than on the inside, where it should be. And the shade could get at it so much more easily now, couldn’t it? Infect her veins with all the intensity of Lady Briarwood’s machinations.

Cassandra stared at the blood, hypnotized by how certain her arm seemed to be of itself, smoothly continuing on its journey and refusing to be stopped. The blood coated it like a slick vambrace, somehow liquid and unliquid at once, so smeared that it seemed to have lost all track of how a liquid should work. There was one lone rivulet that hadn’t lost sight of how it should act, one streak of pure iron scarlet that made its way determinedly from the wide open gorge of gore around the slender curve of Cassandra’s arm. It hugged the swell of her bone as it slowly ran down the outside of her wrist, a fine outline for the bloodless glove of flesh of Cassandra’s hand.

It clung tight all the way to the bottom of her wrist and slowly, slowly, built up mass until a lovely red teardrop hung from the precipice, swaying gently even with the confidence of Cassandra’s arm. Perhaps it was the echoes of the voices, screaming so loud but so distant that they shook the droplet of blood, or perhaps the shaking of Cassandra’s legs was so intense that it was affecting the certainty of her upper extremities.

_Willfully given, so sayeth the Knowing Mistress_ , one of the echoes screamed in Cassandra’s ear, so loud that it startled Cassandra into a jump, and the blood drop shook even more, its grip on Cassandra’s skin growing even more tenuous.

_It is my blood, and I give it to no one_ , another echo shouted, so familiar that Cassandra could almost imagine saying it herself.

_Willfully given_ , the first echo argued.

_It is_ mine, the other refuted.

“It is mine,” Cassandra murmured. “It is my blood, and I do not give it.”

_Don’t you?_ The first echo taunted. _Don’t you give it, though?_

“No,” Cassandra murmured again. She began tugging her arm away from the altar, but the strange black marble had some kind of pull over her, something she couldn’t quite resist. “No, it is my blood. I do not give it.”

_GIVE IT_ , the first echo demanded, so certain and so proud that Cassandra could barely imagine resisting it.

But she had resisted worse; had resisted Lord Briarwood and his strength and Lady Briarwood and her magics and the creature that Lady Briarwood served and its tricks, and she would rather die than let something tell her what to do with _her own damn blood_ , cursed or shaded or worthless as it may be, because it was _her damn blood_.

She pulled her arm back, and it came back like she was pulling it out of Lord Briarwood’s strongest grip, and she could almost imagine that the gouge was from his nails.

The drop of blood shuddered, shook as though it were the last droplet of water at the bottom of the well after an earthquake, almost seemed to halfway detach itself from Cassandra’s wrist-

But it remained, not streaking past the grim lacelike line that it had earlier traced around her wrist, and as she pulled her arm back entirely from the altar and from the marble, the force overpowered her and she fell backwards, collapsing into the fresh wave of dizziness that fighting back had earned her, and her arm fell against her chest, smearing her white dress with the viscera that leaked out of her.

Although, now that Cassandra had the wherewithal to examine herself, the gore staining her dress wasn’t the first thing to ruin it. It was already streaked with black-crimson blood and light gray dirt and some sort of pitch black tar, thick and goopy, and it certainly looked nothing like a wedding dress now, if ever it had.

And that black-crimson blood– it was no strange byproduct of the ziggurat or of whatever battle Cassandra’s body had been involved in, or, at least, not solely a strange byproduct thereof. Her body was coated with slashes and wounds, all bleeding out and sticking the thin, frothy material to her body.

“Fuck,” she muttered to herself. “Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, _fuck_.”

She was bleeding, and not just bleeding, but bleeding _out_. This wasn’t the dizziness from spinning around too quickly or from leaping out of tree that was taller than predicted or from missing a step in the middle of a staircase. This was a dizziness from being pushed down a spiral staircase, from going overboard in the midst of the angriest squall in living memory, from being hit against a stone wall so hard that the bricks and teeth alike come loose. This was a dizziness of spots dancing at the edge of vision, a pirouette of blackness against a waltz of blindness, the kind of dizziness that could kill a woman if she wasn’t careful.

Cassandra usually wasn’t careful.

She sat up, vision spotting even more severely, gone black like a surprise round of Blind Man’s Bluff, and forced herself to push her legs straight in front of her, sitting like she was a child again. With no small effort, she pulled back her overskirts to get at the lacy, frothy lightness of her underskirts. She pulled the hem up towards her face, grabbed it in her teeth, and with all her remaining strength, tore a wide, fat strip off of it, up to the waistline where it met the shirt of her dress, and tore out the thread that connected the seam itself.

The strip was far larger than she would have liked, but it would do. She first tied a tight knot just above her elbow, where the deep gorge in her arm began, and once it was secure, pinched the wound together and began to wrap the froth around it. Even with the wound pinched shut, the light fabric soaked quickly through with blood, and she found it necessary to wrap the wound around three times with the froth, finally finishing by tucking the leftover fabric into the wrappings at her pulse point.

The most pressing wound, the one stealing the vast majority of her lifeblood, thusly as solved as Cassandra feasibly could, she struggled back to her feet. Her vision still danced, darkness still taking over where she should be seeing the ziggurat and the altar and the marble, but she had no time to hesitate now. There was no telling what Lady Briarwood had done with her body, no telling what kind of machinations she had gotten up to while Cassandra was trapped in that void.

Cassandra turned around slowly, ever mindful of the dizziness, and saw on the pathway behind her, Vex’ahlia.

She was lying there, almost posed as a classical painting of a heroically tragic maiden, her arms slightly akimbo and her legs stretched behind her, but she was not as beautifully tragic as the paintings made of her would have been. There was an enormous, rapidly purpling bruise covering most of her left eye, and there was blood leaking out of her nose and mouth, and the end of her beautiful braid was still smoking, with faint embers still glowing within. Her clothes were ripped, but not romantically- her armor was burned away from her torso around towards her back, the flesh beneath it bubbling slightly with the burn, and the armor of her legs was stained a deep brown with the blood soaking through.

“Oh, no,” Cassandra whispered. She hurried over to her, falling to a kneel, and carefully examined her. When she pressed her fingers to Vex’ahlia’s neck, there was a faint and unsteady _thump, thump, thump_ , but Vex’ahlia’s eyes remained shut.

“Come on, wake up, wake up,” Cassandra muttered. She gently slapped Vex’ahlia’s cheeks, pushed at her shoulder, even tried to hold her eyes open, but her cheeks remained cold, her shoulder yielding and floppy, and her pupils rolled back into her head.

“Dammit!” Cassandra cursed. She pulled back from Vex’ahlia and pushed her fringe back off of her sweat-soaked forehead. “Dammit, Vex’ahlia, _please_ , please wake up, please, please, please, you were so _kind_ , you can’t die, _please_.”

Vex’ahlia did not answer.

“Please,” Cassandra repeated helplessly. “I can’t carry you, Vex’ahlia, _please_.”

Vex’ahlia, still, did not answer.

“ _Please_ ,” Cassandra said again, voice cracking.

From above her, and from several feet away, came the sound of footsteps.

“Get the fuck away from her,” Percival said. Cassandra looked up, and saw him pointing his weapon at her. Shadows were coalescing around his feet and ankles, making him seem more like a ghost or a monster than a man, than her _brother_ , and his eyes almost glowed with their rage in the darkness of the ziggurat.

“Percival,” Cassandra begged. “Please.”

Percival flicked a switch on his machine. “Get the fuck away from her, you damn bitch.”

Carefully, Cassandra tipped herself backwards and scrambled away from Vex’ahlia, one arm still immobilized in her makeshift bandages. “Dammit, Percival, it’s _me_.”

Percival sneered. “As if I’ll fall for that again. Stand up.”

Cassandra struggled to her feet, vision blotting with spots and spirals. When the grays, blacks, and purples finally cleared, Percival was still glaring at her, eyes unsympathetic.

“Stay there,” he ordered. He walked towards Vex’ahlia, slowly, cautiously, never moving the aim of his weapon away from Cassandra’s face. He stepped over Vex’ahlia’s body, past it, until he was staring Cassandra down. He pressed his weapon against her forehead.

“Give me one good reason,” he murmured, “why I shouldn’t kill you here and now.”

“Percival, it’s _me_ ,” Cassandra begged, on the verge of tears. “Please, I was trying to _help_ Vex’ahlia. It’s _me_. It’s Cassandra.”

“Shut up,” Percival said. He pushed at Cassandra’s forehead with his weapon. “You are going to stay quiet until we are out of this damn chamber, at which point you will get _out_ of my sister’s body, or I will kill you. Understand?”

Cassandra nodded silently.

Percival turned away from her for a moment, keeping his weapon trained on her, and hesitated. He turned back, eyes uncertain.

“If it is you,” he whispered, and then paused. “If it _is_ you, Cassandra, I’m sorry. But you know why we have to do this.”

He turned away again. “Vax’ildan!” He shouted. “I’ve got them both! Come carry Vex’ahlia!”

Vax’ildan peered around the corner at the outside of the ziggurat. He met Cassandra’s eyes, and his gaze narrowed. He flipped a dagger out of one of the holsters on his belt.

“Can you handle her?” He asked lowly, nodding to Cassandra.

“I’ve got her,” Percival said. “Just grab Vex’ahlia.”

“Right,” Vax’ildan agreed. He walked into the ziggurat slowly, keeping his eyes on Cassandra, until he came to Vex’ahlia. A tenderness came over him, a softness that was so obviously reserved for his sister that it nearly hurt. He replaced his dagger in his belt and knelt down, gathering Vex’ahlia into a bridal carry.

Once he had climbed back to his feet, he turned and slowly began to exit the pyramid.

“Alright,” Percival said. “You first. Move fast and keep quiet.”

Cassandra nodded and moved around him, walking as quickly as she could, with her vision still spotted and spiralling. She felt the cold metal of Percival’s machine come into contact with the back of her head as he continued pushing her forward.

The chamber of the ziggurat was dark now, no sickly green energy guarding the domed rock walls, and Cassandra more than halfway stumbled down the steps of the ziggurat, only barely managing to avoid tumbling into Vax’ildan.

It wasn’t until the chamber just outside of the ziggurat room, the dusty earth corridor, that Cassandra got her bearings again. The rest of Percival’s friends were waiting there, including Pike and Keyleth, with a glowing mace and staff, respectively.

“Percy!” Keyleth exclaimed, popping up from where she had been sitting. “And, uh, I _want_ to say Cassandra, but I’m not going to, in case it’s Delilah. If it’s Delilah, fuck you.”

“Yeah, fuck you,” Grog agreed.

“Pike, is there any way you could- could _check_ , somehow, whether or not this is Cassandra?” Percival asked. “Or to get rid of Delilah, or _something?_ ”

“Give me a second,” Pike said. She was rubbing her palms together, summoning a sweet, golden-red sunrise light between them that she then smoothed over all of Vex’ahlia’s injuries, slowly healing her. “I’ve got to take care of Vex’ahlia, first.”

Percival shifted uncomfortably for the few moments it took for Pike to heal Vex’ahlia, anxious until her eyes fluttered open and she moaned.

“There,” Pike said, satisfied. She turned around to face Cassandra, and her gaze went cold. “Right. Let’s see then, shall we?”

Cassandra nodded.

“I warn you,” Pike said, voice as pleasant as an auntie shopping at the market, “if you are _anyone_ besides Cassandra de Rolo, I am going to burst your skull open so hard that the fragments are going to embed themselves in the walls so deep that they ruin the structural integrity of Castle Whitestone.”

Cassandra nodded again.

“Good!” Pike began forming a small ball of golden energy between her palms. “Now, this shouldn’t hurt, unless you’re not Cassandra de Rolo.”

Cassandra nodded again. Pike took the golden orb and pushed it into Cassandra’s chest slowly. It burned, a bit, but no more than choking on water, and was almost refreshing.

“Oh,” Pike said. A smile slowly grew on her face. “Oh, great! Fantastic!” She hugged Cassandra tightly. “Sweetie, I’m really sorry that I threatened to burst your skull open. I was afraid that you were Delilah again.” She turned to look at Percival and his friends. “It’s alright, everyone! It’s just Cassie, not Delilah. It’s all good.”

Percival sighed with relief behind Cassandra, finally pulling his weapon back from her skull. “Oh, thank goodness,” he said quietly, the shadows from his ankles finally beginning to fade away from Cassandra’s peripheral vision.

“Sorry I said fuck you,” Keyleth added. She elbowed Grog.

“ _Ow!_ Fine, I’m sorry I said fuck you, Cassandra.”

“Oh, it’s quite alright,” Cassandra said, teetering somewhat unsteadily without the support of Percival’s weapon. “Pike, love, if you wouldn’t mind, could you stop hugging me please and perhaps? And maybe instead, apply some of that lovely lovely healing magic to me, as I believe I might be bleeding out.”

“Bleeding out?” Pike asked, finally pulling away from Cassandra. Her face was now coated with the brackish blood and tar from Cassandra’s dress. “Are you sure?”

Cassandra giggled, a tiny bit drunk on her loss of oxygen now that the adrenaline was rapidly running out of her system. “Fairly certain, very certainly. Oh, dear.”

“Oh, dear,” Percival agreed. “Cassandra?”

“Percival?” Cassandra agreed. “Oh, it’s terribly dark here, Percival.”

“It is,” Percival agreed. “It’s very dark. Can you see?”

“Not quite, it’s quite dark,” Cassandra said, the black spots returning for a lovely foxtrot around the top of her vision. “No, not quite, Percival. Oh, dear.”

“Here, Cassie, sit down,” Pike said, tugging on Cassandra’s hand, the one that had had all the blood coming out of it. “You’ll feel better when you’re not standing up.”

“Oh, probable, presumably,” Cassandra agreed. She began trying to sit down, but lost her nerve halfway through, her eyes rolling into the back of her head as she lost consciousness.


	24. Chapter 24

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> no major warnings this week

When Cassandra woke up, she was back in Ludwig’s bed.

She slowly blinked her eyes open, and then immediately regretted it as her skull flooded with light and pain.

With a moan, she took the pillow from under her head and pressed it against her eyes, trying to will her eyes to stop seeing any light, and trying to will the light to go away.

The light, unfortunately, did not seem to respect Cassandra’s opinions on its existence at all, and continued attempting to drill a hole directly from her eyes through to her brain.

As Cassandra was attempting to figure out the best and easiest way to eliminate all traces of pain from her brain and eyes, the door opened slowly. Its scraping against the stone floor added another layer and location for her pain.

“Cassandra?” Percival asked. It was probably meant to be quiet, but it came out as feeling as though someone were firing a cannon right next to her ear.

Cassandra only mustered the energy to groan in response.

“Er,” Percival said, “are you feeling quite alright, Cassandra?”

Cassandra resisted the urge to remove the pillow from her face to grimace at her older brother. “Oh, take a _guess_ , Percival.”

“Um- do you want some tea? Do you want me to get you some tea? Are you hungry at all? I can find something, just hold on-”

“You’re babbling, Percival,” Cassandra said, voice still muffled by the pillow. “Isn’t Pike here? She has that delightful magical cure-all. And I am _not_ taking this pillow off of my head for anything less than the apocalypse.”

“Right. Right, I’ll go and- go and fetch Pike. Stay there. I will be _right_ back.”

Cassandra groaned into her pillow as her door slammed shut. There was finally some blessed silence, quiet enough that she could nearly begin to compose her thoughts around the pain that slammed through her skull alongside her pulse.

There was no one else in her head besides her, at least, unless Lady Briarwood had decided that mind games were passé and had decided to stop bothering with mocking Cassandra or hurling insults and accusations through her mindspace and replace all of that with a pounding headache.

And there had been no suspicion when Percy had been speaking with her, no accusing her of being Lady Briarwood or possessed or anything of that nature. Just his typical, impossibly unhelpful concern.

And there was a great deal of something wrapped around her forearm, she could tell now, with the weight of the wrappings and their tightness nearly numbing her hand.

In fact, she was coated with bandages. They covered nearly every inch of her body, even a few were stuck on her face, held there with blood or medical glue or both.

And then the door slammed back open again, and the pain slammed back through Cassandra’s skull, and Cassandra cursed loud enough that her skull pulsed through with pain again.

“Hey, kiddo,” Pike said, softly, and Cassandra would appreciate it if the door had not just slammed open with all the force of an infantry division with a battering ram, Or if she didn’t really want to curse again. “I heard you weren’t feeling so hot. Um, from Percival, and from you yelling curse words very loudly.”

Cassandra groaned into her pillow, pressing it down as hard as she could, until she nearly couldn’t breathe.

“It’s alright,” Pike said, trying to comfort Cassandra. “Here, I’ll fix you right up.”

Again, Cassandra felt Pike’s golden magic soak into her body, slowly refreshing her various aches and pains, until it rinsed through her skull, wringing out a modicum of the throbbing pain.

“Feel better?” Pike asked, sweetly.

“... Not really,” Cassandra said, teeth gritted, trying not to curse.

“Hm,” Pike hummed, considering. “Alright. I’m gonna crank things up a little bit, okay?”

She didn’t wait for Cassandra’s answer, instead just pushing a harsher, thicker round of sun-colored magic through her. This magic went more slowly, being forced through her body like hot molasses or warm honey, and still not entirely certain as to where it was meant to go, as the magic slowly overwhelmed Cassandra’s system, through her legs and stomach and sternum and shoulders and arms until finally, finally, it made its way to Cassandra’s head, flushing out the last of the pain with the same sort of numbing feeling as a particularly strong gin.

Cassandra released tension that she hadn’t even known she was holding, slowly soaking further down into her bed.

“Better?” Pike asked, voice light with a smile.

“Oh, _much_ ,” Cassandra agreed. She realized that she was still holding her pillow over her head, and flung it aside as she tossed her arms akimbo on the mattress. “Thank you so much.”

“No problem,” Pike said. “Um, I think Percy kinda wanted to chat with you one-on-one, so I’m gonna leave you two be. Alright?”

“Sure, fantastic,” Cassandra said. She was feeling much more agreeable, now that she could breathe without wincing. “Hello, Percival.”

“Ah, hello there, Cassandra,” Percival said awkwardly, over the sound of the door opening and closing. “Do you feel better?”

“Yes, wonderful. Thank you, Percival.”

“Uhm, glad to hear it. You’re- you’re all you, then? All back in one piece?”

“Didn’t we establish that back in the tunnels?” Cassandra asked. “Although, I can’t suppose that I’m entirely in one piece, really. Only glued together by scabs and bandages now, aren’t I?”

“No, no, not at all! You’re _fine_ , Cassandra. Well, you’ve gone and gotten yourself a fair few many scars, but you’ll live.”

“Oh, _no_ ,” Cassandra said, sarcastically. “Not _scars_.”

Percival squinted at her. “You’ve not been awake even five minutes yet, and already you’re being sarcastic and disrespectful.”

Cassandra smiled winningly at her older brother. “Well, if you had any doubts that I had returned, I should hope that this will wipe them away.”

Percival sighed, loudly, but there was still a slight smile on his face. “You’re a dreadful little menace. Come on, get dressed, you must be starving.”

“Must I?” Cassandra asked. “How long was I unconscious?”

“Erm,” Percival said, awkwardly. “Quite a while.”

Cassandra raised an eyebrow. “Hours? Days? How long have I been asleep, Percival?”

“Nearly three days now,” Percival said. He sat down on the edge of the bed. “We were so frightened, Cassandra. We weren’t certain that you were- that you were going to wake up.”

“Well,” Cassandra said, pushing herself up to sit upright against the headboard, “I’m awake now, aren’t I?”

“ _Obviously_. But- I was scared, Cassandra. I was afraid that you were going to die. You had lost so much blood, and no matter what Pike did, how much magic she poured into you, you wouldn’t wake up. It wasn’t even as though you were sleeping, because you were just so still, the entire time, not even tossing or turning as in dreams or nightmares, but just… still. Silent. Just lying on the bed, barely breathing. So many times, I thought- I thought I had lost you again.”

“Oh, _Percival_ ,” Cassandra said. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to.”

“It’s alright,” Percival said, turning swiftly away. “You’re awake now, and that’s what really matters. Put some fresh clothes on and we can get you some food.”

“What time is it?” Cassandra asked, pulling her blankets aside. The shades on the window were drawn.

“Around four in the afternoon,” Percival said. “Vex’ahlia went to the market yesterday. She’s helped to get it started back up again, the baker and dairy farmer and several other farmers have started trading in the square.”

“Oh, is Vex’ahlia, ah, feeling better?” Cassandra asked. As she stood up on the stone floor, her legs shook and tingled with the sudden blood flow. Carefully, not fully trusting her own stride, she walked across the stone floor to throw the curtains of the windows open. The clouds had cleared from the sky, and there were still several hours of sun left in the day.

“Oh, much,” Percival agreed. “She was up and walking about while you were still… still unconscious. And she was getting the market up and running before- before, ah. Well, we aren’t entirely certain when everything started to go wrong for you. She was getting the market ready while you were. Recovering.”

“Ah,” Cassandra said. “Recovering.”

“Yes,” Percival said, awkwardly. “Ah, speaking of, Pike wanted to speak with you. Over what’s happened the past few days.”

“The ones where I was unconscious?” Cassandra asked wryly.

“Oh, the past few weeks then. I forgot how annoying you are.”

“I certainly won’t let that happen again,” Cassandra said., turning away from the window “Are my things in here, or do you want me to wear Ludwig’s hand-me-downs?”

“Uh,” Percival said, blinking. “I. Am not certain.”

“What? Percival de Rolo, uncertain of something? How _odd_! How _unusual_! How very _incomprehensible_!”

“Oh, shut up,” Percival said. “Just put some clothes on. I’ll wait for you in the hall.”

“Then get out, Percival,” Cassandra called, even as Percival was closing the door behind him.

As soon as she was alone in the room, she let the playful smile fall off her face. She sighed deeply and pushed her hair back from her face with both hands. She walked across the room to stand in front of Ludwig’s old mirror and leaned her forehead against it, staring into her reflection’s eyes.

“I think I’m going to be sick,” she said to herself. After another moment of staring at herself in the mirror, she sighed and straightened up. She walked over to Ludwig’s armoire, Within were a small number of shirts and hanging pants, all in whites and tans and grays and blacks.

After a moment of consideration, Cassandra stripped to her underclothes and pulled on a pair of Ludwig’s old white slacks and one of his gray shirts.

Once she was certain that every part of her was in its proper place, she took a deep, steadying breath, and carefully manipulated her face into an easy smile with Ludwig’s mirror, before she opened the door and walked out into the hallway.

Percival was waiting across the hall for her, and Pike was next to Ludwig’s door, talking to him.

“Oh, good afternoon, Cassandra!” Pike chirped. “I’m glad you’re feeling better, now, we were all quite worried about you. Are you and Percy gonna go get something to eat?”

“Hullo, Pike,” Cassandra said. “Yes, Percival and I were going to go and have some food. Would you care to join us?”

“Oh, gosh, sure! I don’t think I’m going to eat anything, though, I’m still full from lunch. I’d love to sit and chat with the two of you, though!”

“Alright, let’s go on, then,” Percival said. “If we hurry, we may even be able to get there in time to catch Vax’ildan and Vex’ahlia.”

Percival guided her and Pike down the stairs and into the dining hall, where there were two loaves of bread and a basket full of fruits and vegetables on the table.

“Here, sit down,” Percival said, pulling a chair out for Cassandra. “Eat something, you’re skin and bones.”

“ _Eat something, you’re skin and bones_ ,” Cassandra repeated sarcastically. “What are you, my grandmother? I’m not going to fall over dead within the next two minutes, Percival.”

“Just eat something, you abominable little annoyance,” Percival said, falling into the chair next to Cassandra, while Pike sat down across from her.

“Oh, so I’m abominable now, am I?” Cassandra asked, even as she snaked out her arm and nabbed a pear from the top of the pile of fruits. “What does that make you, then?”

“It makes me your _brother_ , who is _worried about you_ ,” Percival said. “Eat your pear.”

“ _Eat your pear_ ,” Cassandra repeated sarcastically. She took a large, juicy bite out of her pear, letting the sticky-sweet juice run down her chin. “Oh, this doesn’t taste terrible.”

“A glowing review,” Percival said sarcastically, picking an apple out of the bowl. “I can hear the town criers now. ‘Cassie declares pear not terrible! Manages to take a bite!’”

“First of all, the town criers know to call me _Cass-an-dra_ ,” Cassandra said primly. “And _second_ of all, I never said it was news. That was entirely _your_ idea.”

“ _That was entirely your idea_ ,” Percival repeats sarcastically. He begins eating his apple.

They keep ribbing each other as Percival finishes his apple, and then another apple, and then a pear.

“Are we done with the snacks, then?” Pike finally asks, as Cassandra nearly gets Percival to choke to death on a chunk of pear. “Cassie- _Cassandra_ \- me and the others wanted to ask you a few questions, if that was alright?”

“Sure,” Cassandra said, turning away from where she was trying to steal Percival’s bifocals. “In here, or… ?”

“We wanted to do it in the library, if that’s alright!” Pike said cheerfully. “Our friends, Kima and Gilmore and Allura, they’ve all found some really interesting literature, and they’re still looking in the library to see if there’s anything they could compare it to.”

“Sure, I don’t mind sitting in the library and being interrogated for a little bit.”

“Oh, great!” Pike said. “Percy, you throw out the cores and stuff, me an’ Cassie are gonna head up to the library. Alright?”

“Alright,” Percival said, sweeping up the small pile of cores that he had accumulated into his hand, which Cassandra dropped her own into while he was talking to Pike. “Don’t start until I get there, alright? I want to make sure Cassandra’s alright while you do it.”

“Oh, aren’t you a sweetie,” Cassandra said, smirking.

“Shut up,” Percival said, flicking Cassandra’s forehead. “I’ll be right there, alright? Don’t get into any trouble in the two minutes that I’m not looking at you.”

“Don’t tell me what to do, Percival,” Cassandra said. “Besides, it isn’t as though Pike and I are going to go and get into a fistfight, or go commit arson.”

“I can never tell with you,” Percival said. “Just go to the library, already, Gilmore and Kima and Allura are waiting.”

“Nyeh,” Cassandra said, sticking out her tongue. Percival tousled her hair as he walked past her and towards the gardens.

“Alright, let’s go!” Pike said, somehow already out of her seat and standing in the doorway. Cassandra hurried to follow her, trying her hardest not to trip over her own feet.

“Cassandra,” Pike said, while they were on the stairs.

“... Yes?” Cassandra asked, after taking a few moments to consider whether or not Pike was going to finish her sentence.

“You really should eat something. _I_ noticed that you weren’t eating, and at some point, everyone else will, too. You’ve been very sick. You _need_ to eat.”

“Hm,” Cassandra said. “Well, I can’t help it if I wasn’t hungry, can I?”

“It doesn’t matter whether or not you’re hungry, Cassandra. You were unconscious for three days. You _need_ to eat.”

“Oh, well,” Cassandra said. “Maybe later.”

“You can’t distract Percival forever, Cassandra.”

“Sure, I can,” Cassandra said. “I was good at distracting Percival before, and I’ve really only gotten better at distracting people since then. Because the thing is, Pike, one of the best ways to survive is by distracting people. Not just in battles, or competitions, or what-have-you. Distraction is an excellent way to survive. And I have survived, haven’t I? Quite well, really, better than I think most would have. And that is _because_ I excelled in distraction.”

“Not everyone is as easily distracted as your brother, Cassandra,” Pike said, sadly. “Some of us don’t just see what we want to see.”

“Sure, you do,” Cassandra said. “That’s all you ever see. Like now. You still want for me to be ill, or perhaps a bit less brash, a bit less loud and annoying. Isn’t that right? You miss the sickly little girl who couldn’t refuse anything or anyone.”

“I _don’t_ , Cassandra,” Pike said.

“Oh, I don’t mind, Pike,” Cassandra explained. “Everyone only sees what they want to see. It’s no one’s fault that you want to see Carlotta again. And it’s not Percival’s fault that he wants to see the girl I was before that. And it’s not my fault that I don’t know _what_ I want to see. It’s all subjective, and that’s the beauty of the world, isn’t it?”

“Oh, Cassie,” Pike said, sadly.

“Don’t ‘oh, Cassie’ me,” Cassandra said. “Believe it or not, I’m not terribly upset about anything going on. I’m done being pitied.”

“I don’t _pity_ -”

“Pike,” Cassandra interrupted. “We’re at the library. Won’t you come in?”

Pike sighed. “We are _not_ done with this conversation, young lady.”

“Oh, I assure you, we most certainly are,” Cassandra said, cheerfully. She tugged the door open forcefully, allowing Pike to walk in first, before she followed. Within the library were three figures- one was the halfling woman that Cassandra half-remembered as a vague smear, from when she had been finishing with being Carlotta; one was a tall, refined human woman, with blonde hair carefully pinned into two braids; and the final one was a human man, with dark, oak-brown skin wearing clothing that looked like it had been fished out of a theatre’s closet, drowned in an archfey’s make-up, and then revived by way of a fire elemental.

“Hello, hello!” The human man said, once he looked up from his book. He stood from the table he was sitting at and hurried over to Pike and Cassandra, shaking Cassandra’s hands with both of his own. “You must be the famous Cassandra, hm? It’s a pleasure to meet you, an absolute _pleasure_! You know, your brother has been one of my most loyal customers, and one of the longest-running, too. I’ve heard so much about you, from the messages that Percival has sent back to Emon! My name is Gilmore, Shaun Gilmore. These are my colleagues, of course- I believe you’ve met Lady Kima, yes? When she was helping you with your memory problems. And this is Lady Allura! She is an _extremely_ skilled arcanist, and I am _thrilled_ to be working with her! Do tell me, how are you? I’ve heard you’ve been ill, and I would just _hate_ to do-”

“Gilmore!” Kima shouted. Gilmore, Pike, Cassandra, and Allura all looked over at once. “Please. Let the girl get a word in edgewise.”

“Of course, of course,” Gilmore said, finally releasing Cassandra’s hand to wave his own in the air. “How _are_ you, Cassandra?”

“Better, I suppose,” Cassandra said, still a bit dizzy from Gilmore’s greeting. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Gilmore, and you, Lady Allura.”

“De- _light_ -ed to hear it! Come here, come here, sit down, sit down. Will Percival be joining us?”

“Uhm, yes,” Cassandra said, falling backwards into the armchair that Gilmore was pushing her towards. “He’s just- he was putting some fruit cores into the compost, for the gardener.”

“Oh, was he?” Percival asked, as he walked into the library. “I don’t know how long you expected for me to take, honestly. It was a five minute aside.”

“I guess I was assuming that you would just stay there,” Cassandra said, sitting up and crossing her legs in the armchair.

Percival sighed, and leaned against the table. “Why did you think I would stay there, Cassandra?”

“Because you’re also garbage,” Cassandra said, talking over the end of Percival’s sentence.

Kima burst into laughter.

“Can we _please_ wait to insult me until after we’ve finished this interview?” Percival asked.

“Yes, yes, let’s finish the interview,” Gilmore said, clapping his hands together. “Come now, Miss Pike, could you cast your Zone of Truth?”

“‘S what I’m here for,” Pike said. She rubbed her hands together, forming a silvery ball of light, which she slowly held up to the open air, as it spread out through the room.

“Perfect, perfect,” Gilmore said. “Now, just a few starting questions to begin, alright?”

Cassandra stared at him for a moment. “Yes?” She guessed.

“Wonderful!” Gilmore said, clapping his hands together. “Alright. What is your name?”

“Cassandra de Rolo.”

“Great, great. How old are you?”

“Fourteen years old.”

“Wonderful. Alright, now for the real questions- are you allied with the being known as the Whispered One?”

“Not to my knowledge.”

“Was it your intention to bleed on the altar beneath the ziggurat?” Allura asked.

“Not _my_ intention, no. I didn’t really realize that I was in the ziggurat, or bleeding on it.”

“Whose intention was it?”

“Well, at first it was Lady Briarwood’s idea. I’m not certain who the other gentleman was. He was quite intent on me bleeding.”

“Other gentleman?” Kima asked. “I’m sorry, what other gentleman?”

“Ah, I was… in some other place for a time, I believe. A sort of void. There was nothing around. A certain gentleman came by, to speak with me. He was disguised as you, Percival. Anyways, he wanted me to bleed on the altar. He said that my blood had to be willingly given.”

“Um,” Pike said, as Allura hurriedly flipped through her enormous tome. “Willingly given, hm. Did he give a name, at all?”

“Well, he gave his name as Percival, at first. But he didn’t give me his real name, no.”

“Cassandra, lovely, did he say why the blood had to be willingly given?” Allura called over.

“Something about… some mistress? The… the _something_ mistress. I don’t remember the word.”

Allura briefly conferred with Kima, who briefly conferred with Pike, who briefly conferred with Gilmore.

“And you’re _positive_ that you didn’t make any deals with him,” Gilmore clarified.

“Yes, quite certain. I only made a deal with Carlotta.”

“Carlotta?” Percival asked, standing straight. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Well, Carlotta showed up, and I made a deal with her,” Cassandra explained. “Not a _deal_ , really, I just told her that I wasn’t going to abandon her.”

“Oh, _hells_ ,” Allura said. She started flipping through the pages. “Oh, _hells-hells-hells-hells-hells_. Cassandra, please, for the love of all that is good and holy, tell me that you didn’t say that she was a part of you.”

“Er,” Cassandra said. “I did, unfortunately. Should I- should I _not_ have?”

“Hells,” Allura said again. She started flipping through her book more desperately, Gilmore apparently reading over her shoulder. “Hells, hells, hells, hells, _fuck_!”

“I can’t disagree,” Gilmore agreed. “Dear me. Cassandra, you may have inadvertently told a lie, earlier.”

“I certainly did not.”

“Not on purpose, of course,” Gilmore said, scrubbing his face with his hands. “No, not on purpose.”

“What’s going on, then? What’s happened?” Cassandra demanded.

“Oh, Cassie,” Kima said. “Oh, _shit_ , Cassie.”

“What!” Cassandra demanded. “What, did I bring about the apocalypse?”

“Hopefully not,” Gilmore said. “Hopefully, _very_ hopefully, not.”

“Then what _did_ I do, for fuck’s sakes!” Cassandra demanded.

“Oh, Cassie,” Pike said, sadly.

“If you ‘oh, Cassie’ me one more time, I’ll kill you,” Cassandra said. “What’s _happened_!”

"I'm sorry to say it, Cassandra," Allura said, "but you've been tied to the Whispered One in a binding, arcane contract."

"Oh," Cassandra said collapsing back into the armchair. "Fuck."


End file.
